Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage
by Erik'sBelleNoire
Summary: Dreading the return of Christine de Chagny to Paris, Erik reluctantly hires a wife to keep up appearences. Yet, he soon comes to realize that his new 'wife' has her own dark demons. And what happens when Christine suddenly reenters his life? PLEASE READ!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi there, its me again. First of all, this is a new form of writing that I'm doing with my friend, Roxanne. We are basically writing this on messenger at night and I'm editing it during the day. So, I apologize if this is choppy in spots, we're getting into our groove. Be patient, we are doing the beta for this story ourselves, so if you see a stray wrong word or goof, let us know...nicely...its appreciated. What we plan on doing is a chapter a night on IM, then posting the next day.**

**If you want a good picture of this story, think of Susan Kay's Erik, butlooking like Gerard Butler's. Don'tget hot flashes now...**

**Melissa**

**And as always, we don't own anything to do with Phantom, in any way, shape or form. Only thing original is our characters and if you don't recognize them as being from Phantom, they are ours. ;)**

* * *

Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage

by: Erik'sBelleNoire and DarkWhispers4Andre

Chapter One:

_Headline in The Époque:_

_De Chagny's To Return To Paris._

The clank of the coins hitting the newspaper boy's meager cup was enough to bring Erik out of his haze. He re-read the headline again, walking away from the stand and keeping his hood pulled tightly over his head, bracing against the cold, snowy morning.

It has been just over a year. One long, agonizing year since the Opera house fire that burned all he had. One long, agonizing year since he made the fateful decision to let Christine return to the safety of her boy, Raoul de Chagny.

He could hardly contain his curiosity as he sat in the carriage that would take him to his home in Le Vezinet, just outside the hustle and bustle of the busy Parisian streets. He finally opened the paper and read the rest of the story.

_Vicomte and Vicomtess Raoul and Christine de Chagny are expected to arrive within the next week in preparations for the grand opening of the newly restored Paris Opera House. Christine de Chagny, having officially retired from the opera since her nuptials nine months ago, has decided to participate in the new production of Meyerbeer's Le Prophète._

_Her voice is not ready…. _Erik grimaced at the very notion, but continued to read.

_The Opera house, whose upper rooms, stage and rooftop were almost completely destroyed by the infamous fire just over a year go, is expected to be full to capacity when the doors open officially the first of May. The Opera house owners, Monsieurs Richard Firmin and Gil Andre are quoted as saying that they are, "most excited to see the Opera house back to its full glory and splendor."_

He dropped the paper into his lap in disgust as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of his home. His driver, Jacques, opened the door for him and waited for Erik to exit. Erik nodded to him and he drove the carriage off to the eastern side of the estate.

A rather vast estate, it was found by his associate Jules Bernard within a mere few days after his escape from the Opera house. It took more than half of his money to buy and restore it, but as he stood to admire it, walking up the cobblestone path to the front entrance, he knew it was worth it.

After moving in and being rather disgusted with half his money now spent, he looked for a way to make a new profit. With his twenty thousand francs a month salary gone, he decided to bleed the Opera house dry another way, by becoming an investor. Jules did the legwork, and under the name Charles Renault, his father's name, he became a principal investor. It has paid off. Even while the renovations were going on, the opera house turned a hefty profit, opening it up for tours of the damage, especially the cellars.

His cellars.

They were all but destroyed in the fire, yet a rather crafty Madame Giry, under instructions from Erik, suggested that curiosity seekers might pay money to view the former home of the now infamous Opera Ghost.

It worked beautifully.

Word of mouth grew and more and more flocked for guided tours below the five cellars. Money began to return and with it, the satisfaction that he had fooled them yet again.

But, for all that, he was still empty. He had a large home, eight rooms, a full library, a music room with a large, black lacquered piano. He had servants, loyal servants, yet he did not have the one thing he desired. He did not have Christine, _his_ Christine.

She had left Paris immediately with Raoul, escaping to the de Chagny estate where nothing was heard from them until her wedding was announced three months later. After that, it was if they had disappeared. Erik would scan the newspaper everyday for any word, but to no avail, until today.

He tucked the paper under his arm as he entered the foyer and went straight for the library. Throwing the paper on the desk, he removed his hood and cape, throwing them on the leather chaise before sitting down at his desk. In front of him on the large, ornate wood desk sat a stack of papers pertaining to the financial operations of the opera house. The latest was on top, thanks to Monsieur Bernard, who had them on his desk just after sunrise that morning. He picked it up in his hands and began to examine it when a knock came to his library door.

"Enter." He spoke softly in reply.

The door opened and Erik did not have to look up to see who it was, it was his head maid, Emma. She paused at the entrance and waited for him to address her.

"Yes, Emma?" he still did not look up from the papers.

"Monsieur…. Messieurs Bernard and Mancia are here to see you."

It was only then he looked up and grimaced.

_Monsieur Eduardo Mancia……_

How that man irritated him so. A fellow investor, in fact, the only investor that knew of his true identity, his expertise and advice had been invaluable over the past several months as Erik slowly acquired more and more shares of the Opera House.

Other than that, Erik had no use for Eduardo Mancia. He was boorish, uncivilized, rather portly and was constantly either eating or drinking, leaving disgusting stains on his shirt, and food crumbs in his long, unkempt beard. Just the very sight of him made Erik blanch.

Sighing, Erik knew he had to let him in, but fully intended on raking Jules Bernard over the coals for such a breach of unspoken etiquette….he knew that Erik did not like Monsieur Mancia visiting his home more than it was absolutely necessary.

"Let them in." he spoke to Emma and immediately noted the look of disgust on her soft features. He scowled slightly, "What is wrong?"

"Umm…Master Erik, Monsieur…." She started, looking back into the foyer towards Monsieurs Bernard and Mancia. A strong willed woman of fifty, it was not in her nature to be so apprehensive.

He waved for her to come inside the door, which she did, shutting it behind her.

"Now, tell me." He instructed, rising from his desk and approaching her.

"Monsieur, you know how I feel about that….Monsieur Mancia…."

"Yes, I do, Emma."

"He is…well, he _has_ taken to physical advances toward Lacie." She said softly, but firmly, not hiding her displeasure as she gestured toward the closed door.

"Lacie?" Erik scowled.

"You know, Monsieur….she is such a young girl, barely twenty-one, naïve and loyal and has not been here long. She did not know how to handle this….well, it was a good thing, Monsieur, that I happened upon him and pulled her away."

"When did this happen?"

"Just a few moments ago, Monsieur."

"And where was Monsieur Bernard?"

"He was at the carriage, settling the payment, Monsieur Mancia wandered off into the side garden where Lacie was cleaning the outside windows and…."

He held up his hand and said firmly, "Enough."

She nodded in compliance.

"Where is Lacie now?"

"Cleaning the kitchen, I felt it best to keep her as far away from Monsieur Mancia as possible until his departure."

"Very well. I wish to see Lacie later, but until then, inform her she has done no wrong and in the future, to always report anything of this nature to me immediately, or of course, to you. And never to be afraid of defying anything that Monsieur Mancia says or does towards her."

"Yes of course, Monsieur."

"Now, show them in." He turned and walked back to his desk and sat down, tapping his fingers against the stack of papers, trying his best to determine how to handle what had just happened.

Emma nodded and in turning around, opened the door and gestured for the men to enter from the foyer.

Jules Bernard entered first with a soft nod to Emma, his face pale and apologetic, his mouth inaudibly speaking to Erik…..

_Forgive me…_

Erik returned the gesture with a shrug of disgust and motioned for Jules to sit down in the chair closest to the large window on the right side of the library that looked out onto the side garden.

"Well, well….Monsieur Renault!" the loud, rather snorting voice of Eduardo Mancia rang out as he entered the library, holding in his hand a large hunk of bread, half eaten as evident of the crumbs that lodged in his beard. "As always, your home has much lovely things to offer!" he grumbled as he popped Emma on the backside playfully. She gave a very noticeable frown, but said nothing as she exited.

"Monsieur Mancia, that will be quite enough!" Erik stood up and momentarily forgot his manners. "You were not brought to my home to accost my servants, nor to get your disgusting food droppings onto my fine Persian rugs!"

Monsieur Mancia stopped cold in his tracks, never being spoken to by Erik in that manner, the bread in his hands dropping to the floor with a soft thump.

Erik took a long, deep breath, glancing at Jules who seemed rather shocked, but amused at the sudden show of displeasure.

"Sit down, Monsieur Mancia and tell me what brings you here today." He spoke more civilly as he sat back down at his desk, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

Grumbling slightly at the loss of his bread, Monsieur Mancia stuffed himself into the chair closest to Erik's desk and leaned back, resting his hands on his large belly.

"Monsieur Renault," he began, then cleared his throat free of dry bread, "I am sure you read in the Époque today that the de Chagny's are due to return to Paris for the opening of the Opera House."

Erik gestured to the paper that lay on his desk close to Mancia, "Yes, I am aware."

"I have returned from the Opera House and from an impromptu investor meeting…." Then he began to chuckle, "The investors have been given special seats at the opening performance."

Erik's eyes widened. This was indeed unexpected, but he couldn't quite understand why Monsieur Mancia found it amusing.

He turned to Jules.

"Monsieur Erik…" he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He leaned forward and handed it to him, "it's an invitation and seat ticket for the opening addressed to Monsieur Charles Renault."

Erik took the envelope and sat it down without looking at it. "It is rather simple gentlemen, I shall not attend. I am an investor by proxy. I am sure an excuse could be made."

"Oh, I am afraid not, Monsieur Renault!" Monsieur Mancia replied loudly with a deep laugh, "I have already informed them that you _will_ attend."

"And why did you do such an ignorant thing without consulting me?" Erik spat out, leaning forward on his desk and resting on his elbows.

Mancia did not flinch, his voice smooth and self assured, "Surely, you understand how important it is for all the investors to be there. Many of them are looking forward to meeting you as you _are_ the majority shareholder, thanks to my guidance….and word has gone out to the de Chagny's themselves….they wish to know of the new and generous benefactor who came up with the wonderful idea to hold tours while the restoration was being completed."

Erik leaned back against the chair, rubbing his chin as he again glanced at Jules, who could do nothing but shrug his shoulders in defeat.

"Was that all you wished to tell me?" he said to him coldly.

"Yes, all that comes to mind, Monsieur." He answered almost happily.

"Then do not let me keep you, I assume you have a carriage outside?"

"I settled the bill and he awaits us." Jules spoke up.

"Emma!" Erik called out and within a few seconds, she entered the room.

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Monsieur Bernard will remain with me. Please walk Monsieur Mancia to the door….and, if he behaves inappropriately, you have my permission to respond in any manner which you see fit."

Mancia grimaced as Emma smiled and answered, "Yes, Monsieur."

He then stood and nodded to Erik, "Until the opening then, Monsieur Renault."

"Monsieur Mancia."

Mancia turned on his heels and followed Emma out of the library, shutting the door hard.

Only when that happened did Erik finally lose his composure.


	2. Chapter 2

Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Two:

"That bloody disgusting piece of human filth!" he screamed, pounding his desk. "First he comes in here assaulting my servants, then he runs his mouth to Christine and her husband about me!"

"Monsieur Erik…they don't know it's you."

"They will soon enough." He sighed deeply, "Perhaps, there is a way to get out of this before the first of May…it is still two weeks away."

Jules grimaced, "Uh…there is more."

_What? What could be worse?_

"Speak."

"There is a cocktail party scheduled for Saturday evening, a welcoming for the de Chagny's. The investors are also expected to attend. The invitation is in the envelope as well."

_That is three days away….no…._

"I cannot attend it, not such a small gathering. Seeing Christine again…."

"I know. But it is good business, you know that. You should go with someone…a nice lady. Perhaps one of your mistresses…."

He laughed to himself at the very notion_. Bloody hell….none of my mistresses are nice ladies…._

"No…none of them would fit in with the type of gathering as this. I need…."

"You need a wife."

Erik looked up, then laughed sarcastically, "Yes, a fine idea, go out and find me a wife, someone I can pass off as Madame Renault, someone who is not repulsed at this…." He gestured to his mask in disgust. "Like Christine was….like they all are."

"Except your mistresses."

"Only because they are paid…."

Jules stood then and approached the desk, "What is so wrong with finding a wife, I mean just a temporary one, for the sake of the de Chagny's, and of the other investors? What a triumph it would be for you to walk in there, a lovely woman on your arm, declaring you are the majority shareholder of your own opera house, the one you built, the one they drove you out of!"

"I do not know…."

"It is only for two occasions, Monsieur, then you can remain private once more, if you so choose of course."

Erik stood also, but not to argue.

"Very well. But, _if_ I consider this notion, who do we find that would be willing to do this?"

"Leave that to me, I know of a couple of young women."

"You do?"

Jules laughed again, "Yes, I knew you'd be willing to listen to reason, so I started looking around for potential single women."

Erik shook his head, "Of course you did.

Erik stood at the entrance to the kitchen, watching as Lacie was mopping the floor.

He observed her closely, admiringly.

No, she was not old enough, he thought to himself, not old enough to pass as his wife, although she certainly was beautiful enough. A poor, tragic child, she was found by Emma in the Parisian marketplace, having recently lost her father in a very sudden accident on their farm. With no money and no where to go, Emma brought her to Erik, who saw potential in her warm smile and big brown eyes. That was five weeks ago. Since then, she had worked for Erik like a champ, nothing stood unclean. If it did not move, she dusted it and a few things that did move… she also dusted. Everything was polished so bright, he could see his reflection. He was pleased and he smiled at her as she worked on her hands and knees scrubbing an already immaculate floor.

Clearing his throat, he spoke softly, "Lacie?"

She jumped like a skittish cat and flew to her feet, bowing, "Oh! Monsieur Erik!"

He laughed, "Hello, I am sorry to bother you while you are working….."

"No bother, Monsieur. Would you like something to eat? I could make you anything you wished," she began to nervously ramble, "although I daresay I do not see you eat hardly anything….that is not healthy, Monsieur, allow me to make you….."

He shook his head and interrupted her, "No, I am fine, thank you. I wanted to see if you were alright, after what happened with Monsieur Mancia earlier."

"Yes, I am fine, thank you."

"Please tell me what happened, if you are comfortable of course."

Again, Lacie laughed nervously, "I was cleaning the windows in the garden and Monsieur Mancia was suddenly there, behind my back….he tends to do that, or so I've been told by Emma…..and he was….touching me. I asked him to stop, that I was uncomfortable, but he was rather persistent."

"Did you reprimand him in any way?" Erik asked, now leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh no, Monsieur! I did not think it to be my place."

He smiled, "In the future, Lacie, you have my permission to do so, and report it to me immediately. I do not tolerate any inappropriate behavior among my employees, is that understood?"

"Yes, of course, Monsieur, and thank you."

He nodded and with a flourish, turned on his heels and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Lacie with a bright smile.

That pleased him very much.

* * *

Late afternoon….

Jules Bernard stepped out of the carriage then turned and extended his hand. The young woman inside smiled, taking his hand and exiting the carriage as her eyes scanned over the large home before her.

Jules noticed, he noticed everything. He placed her hand over his arm while giving her a look of reassurance. "Don't worry, this will only be temporary and it will be most profitable for you."

She smiled at him and nodded, "Yes, I understand. It is just….well….I did not expect…."

"….the Opera Ghost to have such a luxurious home?" he finished for her as they reached the front door.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Jules knocked on the door, "His underground home was just as extraordinary, just hardly anyone was allowed to view it."

Emma opened the door and she smiled at Jules, then to the young woman by his side. "Hello, Monsieur in."

"Thank you." He replied, allowing the young woman to enter first.

She stopped cold in the large foyer which extended upward, showing the corridors of the second and third floors.

"Emma, this is Mademoiselle Durand…Danielle."

Then he turned to Danielle, "This is Emma, Monsieur Renault's head maid, she'll take very good care of you." He smiled at Emma.

"Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle Durand." Emma nodded to her.

Danielle replied softly, "Nice to meet you."

"Umm….Durand, the dress makers?"

Her eyes lit up, "Yes, my father owns the shop; I'm one of the seamstresses there."

"What brings you…?" Emma asked, but a look from Jules stopped her abruptly.

"Please, let Monsieur Renault know we are here." He touched her hand gently as to let her know he was not being rude as he was simply changing the subject. Erik would tell his staff in his own time about Danielle, and in his own way.

He stood close to the door as Emma knocked, then slowly slipped inside, while Danielle took the time to wander around the foyer, admiring the many paintings and framed theatre regalia.

"How do you like it?" He asked her.

"Extraordinary, Monsieur Bernard, simply extraordinary….." she mused, her mouth wide open as she looked up and down almost every inch of each wall. He could not help but chuckle slightly.

A few moments later, Emma came out of the library and gestured at Jules, "Go ahead, Monsieur Bernard, I shall bring in tea."

Jules then looked over at Danielle and told her, "Wait here..." as he opened the door to go inside.

Erik sat back as he watched Jules enter his library, trying to hide his slight annoyance. He liked Jules well enough, but was not expecting another visit so soon, and without prior notice at that. "Jules, good afternoon. What brings you here?"

Entering timidly, Jules gave a slight smile, holding up a folder in his hand. "The latest numbers from today's queue, I thought you might like to see them immediately, as I was on my way home from there..." His tone was low and almost quivering.

Erik folded his hands over his chest, his eyes trained on Jules' behavior. He knew his employee well enough to know that something else was on his mind. The numbers were not the only purpose of his visit, nor the main one. He furrowed his brows slightly before answering, "I trust they are satisfactory?"

"Yes, Monsieur, most impressive." He approached and placed the folder on the desk in front of Erik to examine. "Opening night is sold out, and the next three night after is also sold out."

Erik nodded, then opened the folder, glancing briefly at the numbers neatly written out on the first page. _Impressive, indeed._ "Thank you, Jules, is that all?"

Taking a deep breath, Jules summoned the courage to reveal the true nature of his visit.

"Monsieur..."

A long pause falls.

"Yes? What is wrong?" Erik sat back and folded his arms over his chest.

Again, Jules took a deep breath.

"Monsieur...I know it is sudden, only having discussed the matter of you taking a wife only a few short hours ago...yet..." he stops and gestures toward the door of the library, pulled to the frame, but not totally shut.

Erik suddenly felt a creeping sense of apprehension, knowing immediately, by Jules' glance toward the door, that another visitor was there, waiting to be introduced. He curses silently. "Jules, what are you saying?"

"I am saying, Monsieur, that I have brought you a wife."


	3. Chapter 3

Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Three:

Erik's heart leapt in his chest. He looked up sharply at Jules, his hand gripping his fountain pen. "You have brought me a wife", he stated incredulously.

He nodded slowly, not sure how this new turn of events would settle with his employer, yet, he felt he had no other choice, if he had waited...given Erik the chance to think about it...he would have backed out.

"I know that I should have consulted with you first, but as I said earlier, I had already found a couple of prospects."

Erik let out a large intake of breath, then nodded slowly. "I suppose I do not have a choice, I cannot very well leave a lady out there, waiting indefinitely", Erik replied.

Of course he couldn't, but why did he feel trapped like the proverbial mouse?

"Of course, allow me to bring her in and make the introductions..." he went to the door and opened it and with a wave of his hand, gestured for Danielle to come inside.

Erik immediately sat up straight, clearing his throat. His hands moved up to slick back his hair, then he smoothed the front of his black velvet jacket.

Yet, he could not ignore the knot that was forming in the pit of his stomach.

Danielle walked inside, not hiding the gasp that escaped her mouth at the site of the spacious library before her, but especially the man who she saw sitting at the end behind a large desk. He was everything she envisioned, yet nothing like she'd expected. Covering her mouth, she looked over at Jules, who by this time was having trouble containing his amusement at her awestruck nature.

"Come inside," he prompted. "Don't be nervous."

Taking her hand, Jules walked her close to Erik's desk and said, "Monsieur, this is Mademoiselle Danielle Durand."

Erik then stood up and, walking around his desk, stepped closer to the young lady before him. He took her hand in his, immediately noticing how delicate it was, yet the skin was slightly rough.

The hand of a worker.

He bowed his head, his eyes taking in her appearance. "Mademoiselle Durand, it is a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to my home. I am Erik Renault."

Danielle was again awestruck by his height as he stood before her. Tall herself, taller than most women her age...or so her father had told her...she rarely encountered men who stood over her, until today.

She bowed slightly at the waist and replied, her voice trembling with nervousness as well as her typical shyness, "Thank you, Monsieur Renault."

Then her eyes darted downward, unable to look at him any longer.

Erik's apprehension slowly faded away as he watched the slight blush forming high on her cheeks. This lady was not used to meeting new people, especially not men. He found her shyness charming.

He glanced down at her peach colored gown, adorned with lace embroidery and silk ribbon. It was meticulous and clean, the material of good quality. Yet, she was not a woman of society, it was easy to see. He narrowed his eyes, completely leery, yet completely intrigued.

He cleared his throat again. "Please have a seat, Mademoiselle... and Jules". He gestured to the two seats in front of his desk.

He then walked back to his own chair.

Danielle glanced over at Jules, who gave her another reassuring smile, and with that, Danielle sat down in the chair, knowing they awaited her to do so. This pleased Jules.

_At least she understands some social graces… _He said to himself with relief.

Erik settled in his chair, crossing his long legs, resting his hands on his thighs. "Mademoiselle Durand, I trust that Monsieur Bernard explained the purpose of your visit this afternoon?"

"Yes, he did, albeit rather briefly, Monsieur."

Erik glances at Jules, then back at the shy lady sitting directly in front of him, waiting for her to say more, but she didn't. He noticed that she was beginning to relax slightly, though her demeanor was still shy and reserved. "Then you know that I am in need of... a wife," he hesitated. "If you agree, you will be well compensated for your efforts. I will require your service twice, and twice only. Do you have any questions?" He stared at her, waiting for her reaction. The blush was still there and he was sure she had not move an inch since she sat down.

Tons of questions came to mind, yet Danielle could only shake her head, remaining silent, feeling her cheeks blush even more as she kept her eyes on the mask. It was just too much to take in and she felt every bit the coward for not speaking up.

Would she know how to act in a social environment? Would she be too embarrassed to reply when spoken to? Perhaps it _was_ too much for her; she seemed overwhelmed as it is.

Erik continued to regard her for several seconds, hoping that she would at least utter one word, but she simply remained there, blushing, silent.

And she was looking at his mask.

…studying it.

Jules looked back at Erik, then at Danielle. This was certainly not the talkative woman he'd encountered in the carriage ride over. She'd suddenly lost all of her nerve. Erik, in his commanding nature, had all but frightened her into a rabbit hole.

The long, agonizing pause that followed was soon broken by a knock on the door.

Slowly, the door opened and Emma peeked her head inside, "Monsieur, I have tea."

Erik inhaled, grateful for the interruption. "Thank you, Emma, please do come in".

She came in slowly, observing Danielle, who had turned to look at her with what Emma thought was the most lost look anyone could ever have.

_What have they done to you, dear child?_ She asked herself as she sat down the tray of tea on the coffee table by the fireplace then began to pour hot water into the delicate porcelain cups. "Will there be anything else, Monsieur?"

"No, Emma, unless Mademoiselle would like something to eat?" Erik glanced at Danielle, willing her to answer his question.

_Say anything….._

Danielle shoots a glance back to Erik.

_Good god, woman, answer him..._

"I am fine, thank you, Monsieur." Was all she could finally utter, and that in itself came out rather weak. She groaned inwardly.

Erik had seen all he cared to for now. "Emma, can you do something for me after all, please take Mademoiselle Durand to the garden and serve her tea on the veranda".

Emma turned to look back at Erik with a soft smile, "Of course, Monsieur." She went back to the coffee table and picked up Danielle's tea cup and placed it on the tray, along with the cream and sugar, then turned to Danielle, waiting.

She rose slowly with a slight scowl, confused, prompting Jules to touch her arm reassuringly, "It's alright; we shall join you out there shortly."

"I promise not to make you wait too long. In the meantime, enjoy the flowers and the tea", Erik added.

With a nod, she turned and walked out the library door with Emma following close behind.

_Well, tea and flowers cannot be all bad..._

* * *

"Where did you find her?" Erik asked, pacing around the room a few moments after Danielle had left. 

"Her father owns the shop where my wife gets her dresses. I'd noted her on a few occasions in the past, a very lovely young woman, although a bit shy…"

Erik interrupted "…a bit…" but Jules continued, "She keeps to herself, my wife says, tends the shop during the day and takes care of her father and the home at night. She isn't known for being terribly social, although she does have a few close friends. She's very well kept as you can see, neatly dressed, very intelligent. We spoke of many things on our way here. I think you'll be most impressed, once she warms up."

He snorted and his lips curled, eyes narrowed. "Jules…I cannot do this."

"Why? She's perfect. With little or no social status, you can easily pull her off as your wife, she's virtually unknown."

"It is not right. I do not even know this woman and she is…."

"…plain?"

That was an understatement. "Plain? Bloody hell, the woman is almost non-existent. She is not the type of woman I like to entertain."

"The _women_ you like to entertain do not care about anything _but_ their appearances; surely you don't want to parade one of those women around an important social gathering like the one on Saturday."

"No, I suppose I do not."

"And, it is just for one night, that's all."

"Yes, I know. And you do make sense, my friend, as always." Erik looked at him closely.

_I have to show them all, especially Christine……_

Jules smiled as he headed for the door and grabbed the knob. "I shall leave her here for you to get to know. You can see to her way home later. Perhaps, invite her to share dinner with you this evening."

"Wait, you cannot just leave us alone like…." Erik started but was answered by the shutting of the door.

He snorted again, louder.


	4. Chapter 4

Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Four:

Erik had stood at the window another few minutes after watching the carriage ride away before deciding to join Danielle on the veranda. He opened the door and watched her as she sat pensively on one of the wrought iron chairs, looking around at the spacious, blooming garden.

He could see she was wringing her hands.

She was as nervous as he was. It was unnerving, yet it was also comforting.

"Do you enjoy flowers?" he asked her, but made no move to come closer.

She turned slowly, her eyes looking him over much more studious than she had in his library. Yes, at first, the sight of a man in a mask was rather disconcerting to her, despite the warning of Jules Bernard. Yet, at second sight, she could now see his soft green eyes, his dark hair. He was neatly dressed, having removed his smoking jacket in favor of a dark brown, more formal one. He had a presence, standing there at the door to the veranda, a definite presence.

And did she just notice a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her?

"Yes," she said back to him, "I love flowers; Father has a small box of them growing on our back stoop, pansies in the winter, daisies in the summer…we also have a rose vine, but that's all. We don't have a garden, nothing such as this, unfortunately."

He was relieved to hear her speak finally, "You do not?" he decided to make a closer approach, and she didn't appear to mind.

"No, we live above our dress shop in the city, it is small, but we make due."

"I see."

Her eyes looked back over Erik's shoulder as she asked, "Where is Monsieur Bernard?"

"He has left. He thought it best for us to….get to know one another."

"Yes of course."

He sat down on the chair closest to her, which was still arm's length away. He observed her closer now as well. She was not as plain as he had first observed. Her cheeks, while devoid of the usual rouge he was used to seeing, were full and rosy and therefore required no artificial embellishment. Her eyes….while blue, yes….were also speckled with flecks of brown and even a bit of green. Her skin was ivory, but he noted just a touch of freckles along her shoulders as well as on her cheeks just below her eyes. Her hair was not fiery red, but more of a softer strawberry blonde. It was sleek and smoothly pulled up, adorned with a lovely peach colored hairpin that sparkled in the sunlight.

No, she was not as plain…she was….rather lovely….

He cleared his throat to break the sudden silence that had befallen them.

"Umm….so Monsieur Bernard did not tell you give you many details of what I required?"

"Correct. I apologize for not expressing myself further earlier, but I was under the impression you did not wish to…..I mean, it appeared that you were rather put off…."

He shook his head sharply, "No, it was not that, it was just that I did not expect Monsieur Bernard to find someone…."

"…..so unattractive?" her eyes seemed to show a sudden disappointment and she looked down at her hands.

He was taken back by such a statement.

_She cannot mean that…._

"…so quickly." He finished.

"Oh, I see."

"Why would you believe _you_ are unattractive?"

"I have a mirror, Monsieur, I know what I look like. I do not spend my nights alone because I wish it; it is because young men do not like plain old maids."

He bit his lip to contain his laughter at the statement of _old maid_. He'd known a few maids, young and old and she was definitely not _old_. He shook his head again, "Surely, Mademoiselle, you cannot tell me you do not have suitors."

"They do not line up at my door, Monsieur."

"Then they are blind." He replied quickly.

"But I know what _I_ see in the mirror."

"Mirrors lie, Mademoiselle. They only show the surface, not what lies in the heart. Believe me; it took me a long time to realize it myself." He tapped his mask. "Do not listen to them."

Danielle blushed profusely, embarrassed at how she was acting. There she was, in the presence of man who was disfigured to the point of wearing a mask, and she complained of her own sad situation. Nothing that has happened to her in the past few years could compare to a life of rejection and sadness that he must have lived. "Forgive me, I did not mean to insinuate anything."

"I know you did not." He gave her a slight smile and he could see her visibly relax once more.

"Why did you agree to come here?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I do not understand."

"It is apparent you knew of me before you came, even before Monsieur Bernard told you about me. You did not flinch when you saw me. Why would you agree to pose as the wife of a man like myself?"

"Money, Monsieur." She said, almost ashamed of herself, but it was nonetheless true.

"I see."

"My father's dress shop is barely making enough money to sustain us. They raised the rent on our building again and we do not see ourselves surviving much longer this way. We do good work, but there is only myself and Evelyne to sew in the shop, it takes time and women get impatient and go to larger shops with faster service. We are losing business. At least, with the money that Monsieur Bernard offered, it would pay a few months rent on the building…maybe then we could afford to hire another seamstress and speed up business."

Erik nodded. It made good sense, good business sense.

"I apologize if that I do not mean to be, but right now, this is all my father and I have. I figured playing a wife for two nights does not seem to be a large sacrifice."

"It will not be, and I promise that you shall get the payment promised to you."

"Thank you Monsieur. Umm….may I ask something else?"

"Go ahead."

"Monsieur Bernard did not tell me why you required this charade. May I ask why you want a wife for such a short time?"

He let out a small chuckle. Ah, good ole Jules, leaving the hard stuff up to him.

"There is a woman from my past returning. I do not wish to give her the satisfaction of knowing I am still alone."

"Vicomtesse de Chagny."

"So you do know the story."

"Only what I read in the paper, rumors that fly around, you know how women can be in dress shops and beauty parlors, talk talk talk…" she laughed softly.

It was then that she seemed to relax even more. Erik noticed immediately.

"I see. And what did these ladies say about me?"

"That you loved her and she left you for the Vicomte. Then in a rage, you burned down the Opera House. They say you built it for her."

"No, I did not, I built it before I met her, but yes, I burned it because of her. Does that bother you?"

"Yes, it does bother me, but it not my place to judge."

Erik smiled, "You have an open and honest nature, I like appreciate, thank you."

"My father says my mouth will get me into trouble someday. I argue that I do not gossip or spill secrets, I merely speak the truth when I can."

"That is wise."

Danielle smiled at him, a genuine smile for the first time since they'd met.

Erik's eyes observed her intently. She had a lovely smile, and he found himself wanting to see it more often. "Then I guess we have come to an agreement. Of course, a dress will be provided for the evening. I will send someone to your house with a selection to choose from. If that is agreeable to you?"

Danielle scowled slightly, "Where will be going?"

Erik lifted his eyebrows. "You are to come with me to a cocktail given by Madame Dupré in honor of the upcoming inauguration. I see that Monsieur Bernard has not informed you of this all important fact", he smiled wryly.

She shook her head as she let out a breath, "Monsieur Bernard did not tell me where we would be seen, no. So naturally, I do have a couple of questions..." she stopped abruptly.

..."and a request."

Erik eyed her sharply, suddenly piqued with interest. Finally, she was going to speak her mind.

"Of course, Mademoiselle, go ahead". He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"You only said I was required to at your side, twice. Apparently, Madame Dupré's party is one, what is the other?"

Erik took a deep breath. "Why, the inauguration itself, Mademoiselle", he stated quickly, then waited for her reaction.

"Oh, I see." she suddenly grew a bit nervous, not realizing she would be displayed in front of such a large crowd of people. Yet, while she was nervous, she was also curious as to what her role would actually be.

"Then I am to be on display."

Erik sat, pondering her statement for a few moments. It was not how he had envisioned her role, yet he knew she was not very far from the truth. "I suppose it is one way of looking at it, but I do not see you as an object, therefore I have no intention of having you on display. I merely wish to have a lovely woman on my arm, someone with whom I can hopefully have a conversation when the social niceties become too tedious for my own taste", he smiled at her, hoping that she would see the humor in his words.

A small laugh escaped her lips. "Unfortunately, I have not attended many social functions, so I do not know about the tediousness of social niceties, although, I do know of Madame Dupré, and she is tedious enough for several people." With that, she laughed again, but then stopped suddenly. Yes, she knew of Madame Dupré and her recollection was less than pleasant.

Erik's own laugh surprised even himself. He liked this intriguing young lady more and more by the minute. "Then you know enough. And I daresay you certainly seem to have a flair for picking up certain traits in people", Erik's smile broadened as he watched the twinkle in Danielle's eye.

The twinkle soon died down and she looked at her hands, "Sometimes, it is a curse." She shrugged her shoulders and changed the subject, "I suppose I should ask my second question..."

Erik's smile faded as he detected something in her eyes, a fleeting shadow, but one that did not escape his sharp sense of observation. He decided not to press the matter. For now.

"Of course", he replied softly.

"Will we be taking actual wedding vows?" she asked quickly.

Erik eyebrows shot up again. He had not expected that question, not at all. "It will not be necessary, Mademoiselle, as our agreement will end the moment we leave the inauguration gala. And you have to trust me; I shall not expect anything else from you".

It was his turn to feel to feel uneasy. It was not that he did not know how to act around women. After all, he entertained ladies in his home often now.

But Danielle was different.

She nodded slowly, knowing what he meant by 'expecting anything else'. She was relieved. Not that she had not been in the company of men in the past, she was far from being a virgin...

...but that was another matter all together.

"I understand the arrangement and agree to it."

Erik nodded. "And your request?"

Her voice was firm and decisive, "My request is simple, Monsieur...nothing to do with this arrangement is to be brought out around my home, that includes choosing gowns, for that, I will go to the dress makers' myself, or here. And you shall not pick me up or be seen at my home."

Erik nodded slowly, his brows furrowed. "As you wish, of course... but may I inquire as to the purpose of your request? Perhaps there are things that I should know myself?"

"It is my Father, Monsieur...he...does not know of this arrangement. He would be very..." she stopped again and swallowed hard.

_Spit it out, Danielle!_

"He would not approve."

Erik pondered her statement for a moment. "Your father would not approve of our arrangement or... of me?" He braced himself for her answer.

Her eyes widened, not expecting the question. Suddenly, she began to speak without thinking, "Oh no, I can assure you it is not about you specifically, it is my father, he does not approve of any man since...well...I mean, I am so plain and rather hard to look at, at least that is what father says...and if I was to tell him of this arrangement, he would not approve of me being used in such a way..."

She stammered, knowing she was only making it worse.

"I mean..." she finally stopped and she began to wring her hands.

She could almost hear her father's words now, "_You silly little fool!"_

Erik opened his mouth in disbelief. "Why in the world would he say such things about you? Hard to look at? By the gods, this is certainly not how I would choose to describe you, Danielle". Erik stopped abruptly. It was the first time he called her by her first name.

He had not expected this. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. Forgive my outburst, but I cannot fathom that anyone would say you are... hard to look at". Surely, she was not powdered and she did not wear rouge on her cheeks like all the girls these days, but frankly, she did not need any artifice. Her skin was radiant and her eyes bright, and her smile, when she chose to give one, was lovely and genuine.

She looked up into his eyes, noting their sincerity, yet she had never heard such kind words.

"I suppose if we are to be man and wife," she chuckled softly, changing the subject, "then we should address ourselves accordingly. I am Danielle from now on."

She let out a deep breath. She wasn't ready to reveal the dark parts of her own life.

Erik leaned back into his chair, a soft smile playing on his lips. "And I am Erik", he replied pleasantly. Despite the twinkle in her eye, he still saw the shadow, it had faded, but had not disappeared. Danielle had pain in her heart, and at this instant, he wished he could help her rid herself of the hurt, make it go away and never return.

"Erik..." she said slowly.

She loved how it sounded on her lips. She loved how it felt to be in the presence of such a strong man. She missed a man's caress... a gentle kiss.

_Stop it!_ Her mind screamed loudly, so loudly, she jumped in her chair.

She had done only one simple thing...agree to be this man's wife, for show only. Once it was over, it was over. With that in her mind, she could forget that she was already attracted to him, already wishing it was much more.

"Is something the matter, Danielle?" Erik inquired, her sudden movement startling him.

Why was he very warm, all of a sudden? And why did he feel the urge to know what her lips tasted like? How the creamy skin of her cheek would feel under his hands? His palms tingled as they rested on his thighs.

"Yes, Erik...I suppose I did not realize the late hour, I must return home, surely Father is noticing my absence. I have still to prepare dinner. Perhaps you could call a carriage for me?" She stood up slowly, not wanting to leave, but knowing if she stayed, she would never want to leave at all.

Erik rose from the chair with her. He exhaled deeply, part of him grateful for her departure, for he knew by now that he wished to know more about the lovely, intriguing girl with such a sad, mysterious past. But he was determined _not_ to treat her like one of his mistresses. It seemed she deserved more... so much more.

She backs off slowly.

_Too close, way too close._

_Must leave. Now._

"Perhaps you can inform me of when I should return to choose my gown for Saturday evening?"

Erik touched her arm, and he swayed from the proximity of her. "Come inside, Danielle, and I will call for your carriage," he informed her, all the while keeping his hand on her, leading her toward the house.

She did not protest.

* * *

**A/N: That is all for what we have so far, but we do plan on writing again on IM tonight. So, look for the next chapter sometime tomorrow. Please leave feedback, we live for it. Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Five:

Along the left bank of the river Seine across from Notre Dame, just past the many street artists, wandering musicians and vendors, lies Rue du Bailleul, which leads to the Pont Neuf. At the end of this rather bustling street, set Durand Dress Makers.

A rather small business in comparison to the other shops, it boasts one of the nicer window displays in the area. Danielle mused as the carriage pulled down the narrow, cobblestone street, that perhaps that is why clients still came in, for Evelyne's creative window displays. It certainly wasn't to see her. Perhaps it was to see her Father, Jean-Pierre Durand.

He was known for making women happy.

Her naivety pushed to the side, she knew exactly what they all meant.

Jean-Pierre Durand was not a ladies man by any sense of the word. Having just turned sixty, he was rather tall and painfully thin, with a squared, hard face that sported a graying beard. His eyes were blue, but had grown cold and rather thoughtless over the past nine years since her mother's passing. Known for being a great businessman, he was always working, either in the shop greeting clients and taking orders, or upstairs in their meager apartment pouring over the books and daily receipts.

It was easier than dealing with his daughter.

Danielle's duties were rather simple, but strictly enforced. Up at dawn, she always brought hot coffee to her father's bedside before dressing and going down to open the shop. At the end of the day, she would leave the room in the back and go upstairs to their apartment and prepare the evening meal.

She rarely greeted clients anymore; Jean-Pierre was simply too embarrassed.

_Why would they look at you? Pitiful, shy thing that you are_….. he would always tell her…._just stay in the back and sew….._

And sew is what she did. Sometimes, in his haste, Jean-Pierre would promise much more than his daughter or Evelyne could produce in one day, thus forcing Danielle to remain in the shop overnight, sewing to finish the orders.

Yes, indeed it was a hard life, but it was all she knew.

The carriage pulled up to the front door of the dress shop just as the sun fell across the waters of the Seine. Danielle stepped out; looking to her left and observing another carriage parked there, its driver waiting patiently.

Someone was inside.

She walked in the front door and immediately saw Jasmine Marchand, her arms flailing as she spoke loudly about a deadline and taking her business elsewhere.

Jean-Pierre Durand stood almost frozen, shaking his head and apologizing profusely. He turned then and saw his daughter standing by the door and frowned.

Danielle lowered her head immediately; she knew it was going to be bad.

Jean-Pierre was not a very tolerant man on his best days, at least not when it came to his daughter. But today was not his best day… he was downright displeased at her outrageous behavior. His voice was as cold as his eyes when he addressed her. "Danielle, Madame Marchand is waiting. Where is her gown?"

Stammering, she approached him and replied, "Father, her gown is not due for two days, I have still to finish the beadwork and hem. It will be ready on time, I assure you." She tried to make herself convincing, but it was not working. It was apparent, that….again….he had promised more than she could deliver.

Jasmine Marchand, on the other hand, was not convinced.

"I was told by you, Monsieur Durand, that I shall have my gown today and I want it finished and turned over to me, immediately!" Her arms flailed again dramatically.

Jean-Pierre Durand narrowed his eyes into slits as he glared at Danielle. Yet, he turned to give Madame Marchand a restrained, but pleasant smile. "Do not worry, Madame. You shall have your gown tomorrow afternoon. My daughter will work on it until it is finished, even if it takes all night." His voice barely contained his temper as he again turned to his daughter. "Right, Danielle?"

She pursed her lips tightly together as she said, "Of course." With that, she lowered her head even further as she walked to the back of the shop, opened the door and started up the stairs that led to their meager apartment.

Again, she was going to work all night, but she still had dinner to prepare.

Jean-Pierre gave a soft sigh of relief as he took in the look on Madame Marchand's features. She seemed appeased, for now. Let Danielle work all night, indeed. She deserved it for abandoning him all day to cavort with her cousin.

Danielle stood alone in the small kitchen of their apartment, chopping vegetables for the soup pot and waiting for the inevitable moment when her father would come upstairs and berate her for her absence. It was times like these, she was thankful to be holding a knife.

The thought, the very thought she could use it, frightened her.

Instead, she chose to think of Erik Renault, the man whom she had just met that day. That, if anything could, would help her get through what was sure to be a long and tedious night.

After seeing Madame Marchand to her carriage, Jean-Pierre dismissed Evelyne for the day. The girl had been in the shop since the crack of dawn, she deserved a night of rest. He was not as happy about her wayward daughter. He locked the door to the shop and put up the "temporarily closed" sign, then made his way up the narrow staircase.

Oh, Danielle would have some explaining to do.

His hard footsteps sounded like thunder and Danielle's heart sank, yet she could not fight what was coming, so she continued to make her soup.

Her father loved soup.

She hoped it would help.

He stood in the doorway to the small kitchen, watching her work over the stove, stirring the contents of a large pot of what appeared, from the fragrant smell permeating the air, to be his favorite soup. But he was not hungry. He was too mad to be hungry.

"Danielle", he hissed, "what have you been thinking, leaving me alone to deal with Madame Marchand. You had work to do today, and you promised you would be home early".

She turned to look at him and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He raised his voice, his anger barely contained now. "Answer me!"

She almost jumped out of her skin. Still, after all these years, his voice could cause her to almost faint from fright. Slowly, she closed her eyes, then opened them again, trying to gather herself and answer calmly. She prayed for some backbone, the same moxie she showed today with Erik Renault.

"Father," she began, "I told you this morning that Michelle was quite ill with her pregnancy and needed care until her husband returned home. Unfortunately, he was later than expected and I returned as quickly as I could."

He raised his arm, dismissing her words with a sweep of his hand. "You chose your cousin over me? Over our shop? Do you realize we could lose Madame Marchand's business? She is one of our best clients! As usual, you did not use your head, stupid child!" His cheeks turned red from sheer anger. "For this, you _shall_ work all night if you have to. And tomorrow, if you are still not done. You are slow as it is, this does not help matters any!" he continued, never noticing his daughter's slumping shoulders and the small tears at the corners of her eyes.

Her resolve was finally gone and she felt her cheeks turn red with shame and embarrassment. "Father, I swear to you, I shall go right after I have finished preparing dinner and work on her gown. Please, do not be angry with me. I will finish all my current work, because I have to..." she stopped abruptly.

For a moment, she almost gave up on Erik's offer, finding it futile to try and keep up the deception.

Her words barely calmed him as he watched her stammer her apologies. Oh yes, she was repentant, as she should be. She still listened to him, as she very well should. Yet, he did not like her last sentence. He narrowed his eyes again. "You have to... what, exactly? Finish your sentence; you know I cannot stand it when you do not speak properly".

_Have to do it, must do it….._

"I have to return to help her again for the next few days." Immediately she spoke again, trying to calm the storm that would follow, "But, I only have Madame Marchand's gown to finish, and Madame Lupine's hem to do, Evelyne will be able to finish the last two, since she began them. Michelle's husband, he has to work out of Paris for a few days. Just a few short days, Father...and I promise to be home by late afternoon."

She knew she was rambling like a mad fool, but she couldn't stop herself.

He was not impressed.

He gripped the back of a nearby chair, his knuckles turning white. How dare she make such a decision without coming to him first. "You shall do no such thing, Danielle", he spit out, "Your place is here, and here you shall stay. You are not to tell me what work will be assigned to you. And who will prepare my meals? No, you are not permitted to leave, insolent child!".

He remained impassive as he watched her bottom lip quiver slightly, knowing she was doing her best to keep from crying. It did not matter; she would obey, as she always did.

"You do not understand… she has no one else, Father. I promise you that I shall return each evening to prepare your meals. Work shall not lag. You have my word, please reconsider, Father. Please? She needs me."

_And we need this money…._

Tears formed in her eyes and she hated herself for it. She wished she was stronger.

Although...her mind wondered...she was strong enough to lie, wasn't she?

His anger still flared, but he found his resolve faltering. He didn't like it, he thought of it as weakness, but he had to admit even to himself, she was a good worker and if she gave her word, she'd honor it. And if he was truly candid, he knew that the workload was not as heavy this week. He frowned. "My dinner will be on the table each night, as usual. If you are late just once, you shall not be permitted to return the next day. Is that understood?"

The relief she felt almost made her cry out. She sighed deeply and wiped her tears. "Thank you, Father, and no, I shall not be late, not one day. Now...go wash up, your soup will be ready in a half hour." She spoke softly with a gleam in her eye.

Despite it all, she truly loved him and wished for nothing but to please him, to have that sparkle return to his eyes, the same sparkle they only held for her mother.

After all, as he had told her many times, they were all they had.

* * *

Danielle's fingers hurt almost to the bone and she rubbed them as she walked down the narrow, back street toward Madame Boudreaut's dress shop that Erik told her to visit for her fitting. 

Working all morning to finish her work, she had very little time left for the fitting before she would have to return and prepare her father's meal that he requested, shepherd's pie. She groaned to herself, knowing it would take twice as long to prepare. Somehow, he was doing it on purpose, she was sure of it.

She entered the shop and was amazed at how immaculately decorated it was. Colorful, framed artwork adorned the dark rose colored walls, matching the long, velvet drapes that covered the front windows. Along the left side wall, draped over tall, thin mannequins, were some of the most astonishing gowns she had ever seen. Behind the long counter along the opposite wall, stood a rather heavyset woman. Her gray apron was adorned with pins and thread of many colors. A cloth measuring tape dangled loosely from her side pocket. She was looking down and didn't see Danielle until she heard the very audible gasp.

No surprise. Hardly anyone noticed Danielle.

Madame Boudreaut, the owner of the shop, finally looked up from her needlework. "Can I help you, child?" she asked, observing her closely. Surely the girl wanted a job. She would have to turn her down, of course.

Danielle wanted to look down, as was her nature in the presence of more authoritative figures, but she willed herself to keep her head up high and replied softly, "Yes, Madame, I am here for my fitting. I'm Danielle. I was told you were expecting me?"

Madame Boudreaut's mouth dropped. _She_ was Madame Renault? _The wife of the infamous Erik Renault?_ But she was no more than a scared kitten. She again regarded her from head to toe, appraising her.

Well, she looked nice enough, if you didn't take into account her slumped shoulders. She didn't know how to carry herself, but an expensive dress would hide that flaw. Hopefully. Monsieur Renault had made it clear that money was no object.

_He would have to pay handsomely to make that wife of his presentable_. She snorted inwardly.

"Please come in, I have a selection of gowns to show you, as per the instructions that were given to me", she told Danielle, who had remained rooted in place.

Sucking up another ounce of courage, she stepped inside. "I look forward to seeing your work, I have heard so much about you."

And she did indeed. Madame Boudreaut's dress shop was one, if not the finest shops in Paris. She had at least eight employees, all working night and day for their clients. It was this strong of a business that was putting her paltry one on the selling block. She should be bitter, but she could not be. It was business, pure and simple.

And, if all worked well with Monsieur Renault, she would soon have her business back. In that, she took great comfort.

Madame Boudreaut smiled proudly, but snottily. "Yes, I daresay there is no better shop when it comes to producing ballgowns of the finest imported materials. Our clientele is of the highest quality, we only dress the _loveliest_ ladies of Paris", she said. Her last words were tainted with slight disdain, for obviously she didn't find Danielle lovely. Nor a lady.

Danielle's eyes dropped. She might not be as charming as the finest ladies in Paris, but she was not deaf, nor stupid. She knew that last comment was meant for her and yet, she could do nothing but take it. She just wanted to get on with it and leave, but she could almost feel herself blanch.

Madame Boudreaut left the large counter to walk toward Danielle. "Nevertheless, I think we have something here that will enhance your figure. It will be a nice, uh, challenge, indeed," she sighed. She took her arm and led her toward the back where several gowns were displayed around the large room. She looked at Danielle, noticing that her eyes were large as saucers. "They are all beautiful, are they not?" she said proudly. My girls are all expertly trained.

"Oh yes, they are exquisite." She laughed a bit nervously, "My apologies for gawking, but they are to be admired for their design and craftsmanship. Any woman would be proud to wear one."

Madame Boudreaut nodded appreciatively, then crossed her arms over her ample chest. "Well, remove your clothing, child", she ordered.

Danielle's eyes widen. "My clothing?" She had never had to undress before another person before. She looked around for a dressing room, but found nothing.

"Do you think you will be trying on your gown over what you are wearing?" This time she snorted visibly. "You are wasting my time. Remove your clothing so you can try something on!" she repeated impatiently.

At that instant, Madame Boudreaut heard the doorbell at the entrance to her shop, and she groaned to herself.

_They shall have to wait….._

Erik walked in, frowning when he saw no one in the shop. He knew that Danielle had an appointment scheduled for this hour, surely she would not have forgotten. He stood by the door and waited for someone to come out.

Jumping slightly at the sharpness of Madame Boudreaut's voice, Danielle began to unbutton her gown. She looked around and suddenly she was being observed by at least three more young women, who had come in from another room. She felt cold and anxious, like she was on display. She wanted out and she wanted out now. Why should she have to be put through such embarrassment to try on a gown anyway?

Again, she looked down to avoid their gaze.

Erik walked up to the desk, his hand ringing the bell that was set there for just such a purpose. "Is anyone here?", he inquires loudly, yet politely.

Madame Boudreaut signed loudly. "Can't you move your fingers a bit faster, Danielle? I do not have all day! What are you hiding under there that is so precious that you have to preserve it like some work of art in a museum?" she laughed, the sound prompting the three seamstresses to burst into their own fit of childish giggles.

Erik's head turned sharply toward the door at the back, having heard the name of his future make-believe wife, followed by cackling laughter. He winced as he gripped the countertop with his gloved hands.

Danielle felt as if she could very well sink into a hole in the floor, if there was one. It was the last straw and she buttoned up her gown in disgust. She did not have to be treated that way, not for a ridiculous gown.

"If you will excuse me, I shall have to return another day..."

And with that, she made her way towards the door, hoping she could make it out without bursting into tears.

Erik did not wait for someone to come up to the counter, instead walking toward the door to the back room. He didn't even reach it before it flew open and Danielle came crashing into him.

Unaware of what she was doing or whom she had ran into, she began to apologize, keeping her head down and wishing she could just leave as quickly as possible, "Forgive my clumsiness, Monsieur, I was not looking where I was going, if you will excuse me..."

But Erik put his hands on her shoulders, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Danielle, are you alright? You are flustered", he told her, noting again the blush high on her cheeks.

She looked up into Erik's eyes and gasped in recognition. "Erik…I did not know it was you….you see, I was…" she stammered helplessly. She couldn't let Erik see her in this state, she just couldn't.

"It is alright, let me handle this, I heard how you were addressed and I find their lack of good manners _unforgivable_", he glanced toward the door, when Madame Boudreaut appeared. He smirked when she inhaled sharply, taken completely aback by his surprise visit.

_Unforgivable_...his words rang out. He almost hissed when he said it. Was he….angry?

Danielle could not fathom it, but it was if a sudden burst of strong wind blew in under her body and lifted her up. She felt strong and with it, a surprising air of confidence.

Gazing back at Madame Beaurauet's frightened behavior gave her even more power. She would see that they were reprimanded for how they treated her. "Yes, Erik. They were very rude to me. They did not allow me privacy to disrobe and they...gawked at my appearance." She informed him, feeling stronger by the minute. She could almost feel her back straighten, the blush leave her cheeks.

Erik regarded her, listening to the full story of her mistreatment since she had arrived in the shop.

"Madame Boudreaut", he finally addressed her, his voice strong and commanding, "please come here this instant". He kept his hands on Danielle's shoulders, the need to protect her, to make her shame disappear almost overwhelming.

Madame Boudreaut blanched visibly. Monsieur Renault's very presence intimidated her. "Good…good afternoon, Monsieur Renault, I was just getting ready to show Madame the selection we have chosen for her", her smile was pleasant but stiff.

Erik raised his hand to cut her off. "Enough", he said, "Is this how you planned on treating my _wife_?" He glanced at Danielle. "Do not deny it, Madame, I heard every word, you were less than professional, and I shall have none of this".

Danielle's eyes widened but she made no other outward sigh of her shock.

_Did he just call me...his...wife?_

Just those words themselves made her feel pride she had never felt before.

She belonged to someone.

Even if it was fake.

Madame Boudreaut, on the other hand, became very agitated, waving her arms about. "I assure you, Monsieur, it was a misunderstanding. I am very pleased and honored that you have chosen us to dress your lovely wife". Her eyes were wild and she swallowed hard.

Erik looked into Danielle's eyes. They were so clear, so sincere. She was... lovely. He turned his attention again to Madame Boudreaut. "I am very tempted to take my business elsewhere, Madame", he spit out, and watched with a small amount of pleasure as Madame Boudreaut turned a lighter shade of white.

Smirking, Danielle touched Erik's hand, surprised by her own boldness. "I am sure that Madame Lefavre would be more than happy to fit me for one of her gowns, Erik. Perhaps we shall go there now?"

Madame Boudreaut's eyes all but bulged out of her head. "No, Monsieur Renault, I promise you, your wife will be treated with the utmost respect, like the lady that she is. Please Monsieur Renault... you have my word", she pleaded.

Erik regarded her coldly for a few moments, then turned to Danielle. "What do you think… would you still rather go to Madame Lefavre? I leave it entirely up to you, my darling". He closed his mouth immediately. The words had come out so naturally...

She was so intent on teaching Madame Boudreaut a lesson that the word _darling_ momentarily passed. "Umm...I would daresay that Madame Lefavre would have to work overtime to finish it before Saturday evening...perhaps I shall stay. That is, if Madame Boudreaut agrees to treat her clients with more respect, even those who are not the _finest_ of Paris, as she told me earlier."

It was only then that she remembered the word _darling_ and lightheartedly smiled at it.

He was playing his part well...

She looked into his eyes and saw no lighthearted amusement.

_... perhaps… he was not playing afterall?_

Erik absentmindedly stroked her shoulder with his thumb. He noticed then that he had kept his hand on her the entire time and didn't particularly want to remove it just yet. "As you wish", he smiled softly at her. "I am sure that Madame Boudreaut will serve you well. After all, you shall be the toast of Paris in a few days, I am sure she will take pride in dressing you for the occasion", he smirked. "Is that right, _Madame_?" he asked, his dark eyes glaring at the woman who was now clutching the doorframe with her pudgy hands.

Madame Boudreaut nodded hurriedly. "Of course, Monsieur. Madame Renault shall be the most beautiful lady at the opera". She took a deep breath. Her business was saved.

A half hour later, Erik and Danielle emerged from the dress shop. They went no more than a few feet down the street before they both burst into laughter.

"Madame Boudreaut's face was truly priceless when I told her the gown was _mediocre_, was it not?" She looked up into his eyes, proud of herself. "When in truth, it is the most beautiful gown I have ever laid my eyes upon."

Erik laughed, happy to see amusement in Danielle's normally sad eyes. He was delighted by the sound of her laughter, it was clear and fresh and youthful. "Priceless indeed, I thought she was going to faint! The gown was beautiful, but you complimented it", he told her, taking both of her hands in his.

Unexpected by his gesture, she gasped softly.

No, he could not do this; they were on a public street!

"Erik, I do not think we..." she stammered, wondering what happened to the boldness she had displayed just moments earlier in the dress shop.

Erik didn't let go of her hands despite her protest. "Forgive me, Danielle, if I am offending you, but in truth, we are doing nothing wrong", he reminded her, his eyes gleaming. Sighing, he reluctantly let her hands slip away from his, but offered his arm instead. "Would you like to walk with me?" he asked.

Relieved, she took his arm and replied, "Of course, for a few moments anyway. We were in the dress shop longer than expected and I will be due home soon. I mean...if we are to project the illusion that we are married, we should at least look like it, do you not agree?"

He looked down at her, admiring the afternoon sun reflecting in her hair. "I think you are quite right", he offered pleasantly. "And may I say again that the gowns you have chosen are exquisite. I am looking forward to escorting you to the cocktail party, and to the inauguration", he continued.

"Why, thank you. I look forward to the inauguration as well as the...party." She groaned to herself as she tried to spit out the word _party_. She hated facing Madame Dupré. Her only hope is that the passage of time made the woman's memory fade. "Erik...may I ask something?" She continued to walk, holding tight to his arm.

"You may, of course", he replied as he pressed her arm to his body. It felt like they had been doing this for a long time. It felt... _real_.

Feeling secure, she felt she could ask almost anything, even if it sounded simplistic. "I would like to know...how will I be addressed at Madame Dupré's gathering? What I mean is...will I be Danielle Renault, or simply Madame Renault?"

Erik frowned. Her question made sense, yet he wondered why she seemed concerned. "Why... I think that both forms of address are appropriate, would you not think?" he asked.

She frowned at his response.

"What I mean is", he continued, "I think Danielle Renault sounds quite nice, while Madame Renault will certainly be used by lesser known guests". He glanced down at her. "Do you feel comfortable with that?" he inquired.

"I would prefer Madame Renault at all times." Her answer came quickly and firmly.

However, her demeanor told otherwise, she was afraid.

Erik was taken aback by the finality of her request. Why did it matter to her so much? She was a virtual unknown in his circle; her name would mean nothing to anyone. Yet, he knew she was hiding secrets deep within her heart. "Then Madame Renault it will be", he told her. He spotted his carriage around the corner. "Here we are. May I see you home first?" he offered.

When it appeared that he would not argue her request, only then did she visibly relax. "Thank you, but no, I am only down at the end of Rue du Bailleul...but thank you for the walk..." she stopped and turned to him, looking deep into his eyes, "...and thank you for..."

Erik stopped, facing her. He found himself drawn deep within her eyes. He would find out her secrets, in time. "Yes, Danielle?" he asked.

She shook her head with a faint laugh, "Just, thank you for earlier, in the dress shop. You did not have to stand up for me the way you did."

That sweet, lovely laugh again.

He smiled agreeably, but his eyes were serious. "I would not let anyone insult you, Danielle. I only did what I felt was just", he answered. "Now, as we have agreed, I shall see you tomorrow morning at my home for etiquette lessons with Emma. I shall have the carriage pick you up a block from your home at seven. Or is it too early?" he asked politely.

"No, seven is fine. I shall be at the corner." She nodded and reluctantly pulled away from him.

Very reluctantly.

But, she could not be late...

"Until then, Erik."

* * *

**A/N: I'm having to pass around the preview link for this story, as for some reason, it's not appearing in the main listing. If you read this, please pass this story along. I don't know if it will ever show up on the list. -sigh- Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter 6:

The soft, rather faint sound of laughter could be heard all over the house as Danielle, Emma and Lacie stood in the large ballroom of Erik's home that next day. Danielle was there early, as instructed, waiting at the corner of Rue du Bailleul for Erik's carriage to pick her up. It had been almost too much for her to bear, leaving her father so early in the morning. He was not pleased, even though the day before he had agreed to it, even if she had stayed up into the wee hours to finish a last minute alteration. Under calm and quiet assurance from Evelyne, Danielle left, still noting the horrible scowl on her father's face. She knew she had better be earlier than expected that evening in order to keep the peace.

Erik had greeted her warmly with a soft kiss to her hand, but nothing more. Today was serious. One day before the cocktail party at Madame Dupré's and he was still unsure how she would do in a social situation. A bit more sure of herself, he observed, but still rather skittish. He instructed Emma to begin right away and he retired to his study with Jules for an early morning business meeting.

The first lesson was table manners, which began in the dining room at a rather long, but expertly carved mahogany table, covered in a fine silk table cloth. Danielle laughed to herself, wondering what they truly must have thought of her, not having proper table manners. She'd show them. When she picked up and held her utensils and glass properly, sitting exactly two inches from the table, her back perfectly straight without being instructed to do so, the look on Emma's face was priceless.

"My dear child, you did that perfectly." Emma patted her shoulder with a very happy smile.

"My mother did teach me manners, Emma." She answered simply.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry. I did not wish to imply you had not been taught otherwise, it is just that….well….only ladies of a certain status know to…."

Danielle looked up at Emma, realizing she might have given away too much. She had to think fast on her feet. "My mother was well versed in the ways of social gatherings, my grandmother as well. I saw a few things from an early age, even though, I am sure she did not have time to teach me everything."

"I see. Well, I daresay that your must have been a fine lady."

She sighed. Her mother, Geneviève, had been a most grand lady and a wonderful wife and mother. She missed her terribly, more than she even admitted to herself most of the time. Her father missed her too, she was sure of it, although it was never talked about. In fact, the discussion of Geneviève was forbidden. Period.

"How long has your mother been gone, dear?" Emma asked her.

Softly, she replied, "Almost nine years."

"How did she…"

"A ruptured appendix…." She answered quickly, then spoke again before Emma could respond, we continue?"

"Of course."

* * *

Later on that morning, in Erik's rather large and spacious ballroom, Danielle looked at Emma with a grimace as she held a thick, heavy book in her hands.

"You want me to do what with this book?" The shocked look on her face made both Emma and Lacie giggle, though they tried not to, for her sake.

Emma tilted her head and gave Danielle a warm smile. "It will help you keep your back straight and your head high as you walk. That way, people will notice your presence and feel how confident you are", she instructed. "Trust me, it is not as hard as it looks".

Emma looked at Lacie for support as she realized that Danielle's mother must not have had time to teach this to her.

Lacie agreed and smiled happily, taking the book from Danielle and placing it on her own head. Emma had instructed the young maid in the same manner not very long ago and already, she exuded a confidence that Lacie would not have thought was within herself.

"See?" She began to walk, keeping the book perfectly balanced on her head, her body aligned as she moved with grace.

Danielle raised her eyebrows.

This didn't look so hard.

Lacie winked in Danielle's direction. "The first time I did it, I dropped the book on my toes", she giggled, "Monsieur Renault heard me screaming from his study", she continued, and Emma laughed along with her at the memory.

"But," Lacie reassured, "you are already poised and I am sure you will learn much faster than I did". She gave the book back to Danielle, touching her hand encouragingly.

She shrugged her shoulders and took the book while Lacie helped her fit it on her head. She managed to keep it balanced, heavy as it was. At least she could do that much. Then, slowly she began to walk. She got two steps before the book fell off her head, hitting the wood floor of the ballroom with a loud thud. Embarrassed, she could do nothing but stand frozen, looking at the book and feeling stupid.

Emma and Lacie glanced at each other and simultaneously burst out laughing. No, they were not laughing at the young woman, but they knew it was inevitable. Nobody can succeed the first time, it was just not possible. Lacie hurriedly picked up the book and smiled at Danielle. "You did better than I the first time I tried. I could not even take one step before I hurt my toes", she laughed again.

Erik looked up from his ledger as he heard the sound of laughter drifting through the walls of his spacious, yet otherwise empty manor. His lips curled into a soft smirk.

Danielle visibly relaxed at the sound of their laughter. She wasn't going to be reprimanded. "It is not as easy as it looks, is it?" she said softly.

"No, it is not, but you will do fine. Try again." Lacie encouraged her.

She put the book back on her head and kept her back straight, her head very still and concentrated hard, wishing to do well for both of them. Again, she began to walk, but this time, she made it at least four steps before the book slipped. Danielle giggled, reaching for the book, but it eluded her. Luckily, Emma caught it. The three women laughed again.

This time, Danielle was the loudest.

Erik tapped his fountain pen on his ledger, wondering now what was going on that made them so jovial.

Was it Danielle who was laughing now? He remembered her clear, tantalizing laugh from yesterday. His home was too quiet, it needed a breath of fresh air. He was glad that Emma's instructions seemed to be going well. Danielle needed to learn a few basic rules of etiquette, but he wanted to be sure that her instructions were given with the utmost respect. She deserved it and he knew Emma would make her feel at ease, not like some stuffy outside instructor. No, Emma, whose only daughter was now married and living in Rouen, would take Danielle under her wing, she still had the maternal nature about her.

Over the course of the next half hour, they continued until Danielle could make it across the room without dropping the book. Emma could hardly believe how fast she picked up on it. Of course it should have been no surprise to her after what she had observed in the dining room. Why would it be such a shock that she had the potential to move like a true lady?

To Emma, perhaps, Danielle was already a lady.

Lacie and Danielle laughed as the book finally fell off her head in her attempt to turn around. Unfortunately, neither could reach it on time and it fell onto a small table by the chaise, knocking it to the floor and sending a large, expensive looking porcelain vase to the floor. It smashed immediately, the pieces scattering all over the hardwood floor.

Both Danielle and Lacie gasped in horror as panic set in. Danielle froze where she stood, barefoot and afraid to move for all the broken pieces.

"Oh God, I am so sorry!" Danielle exclaimed as Lacie bent down to pick up the pieces.

Lacie could only grimace. She knew her Master would be angry.

Erik jumped, startled at the sudden crashing sound his sharp ears caught. It was coming from the general direction of the ballroom. He rose from his desk to investigate. He had promised Emma he would stay away, so this gave him an excuse to see how the lesson was progressing. He was not quite willing to admit to himself that he mostly wanted to see Danielle. He just hoped nothing was wrong.

He left his study and he walked the long corridors to the ballroom. His heels were the only noise in the house now, the sound making Lacie and Danielle even more panic stricken.

Erik reached the ballroom door and threw it open with one motion, his eyes scanning first for Danielle, who by then had gone pale, then to the floor where Lacie was crouched busily picking up the remnants of what appeared to be a vase. He immediately recognized the expensive Persian porcelain he had purchased from an antique dealer in Montmartre.

"It appears there has been a small accident", he remarked. His voice was calm, and not a trace of anger could be heard.

Despite the calmness of his voice, Danielle still began to shake, causing Emma to put her arm around her protectively. She opened her mouth to apologize for the accident, but Lacie surprisingly spoke up first.

"Forgive me, Monsieur...I have broken a vase. It was an accident, I was showing Danielle the proper way to turn and I bumped into it, please forgive me."

Danielle could hardly believe her ears. Why would Lacie lie to protect her?

She could not have that. "Erik, no," she spoke immediately, glaring at Lacie, "I broke it," she informed him, "I apologize for my clumsiness..."

"No, Monsieur, she is covering for me…" Lacie interrupted.

"Stop it now, Lacie." Emma told her firmly, but calmly. Lacie did as she was told.

Erik studied both women, then glanced at Emma, who could only shake her head.

"Who did it?" Erik asked Emma. His tone was not harsh, but it was apparent he was losing is patience.

"Danielle." She answered him.

Bloody hell, it was only a vase, even if it was his favorite. He didn't even know how many he owned in his vast collection. He was a collector of fine art, and used his money to invest in the best he could find on the antique circuit. He shook his head as he approached the small group. "Lacie, see to it that all pieces are picked up, I do not want Danielle to hurt her feet", he instructed, then turned to his head maid. "Emma, after you are finished with your lesson, please find another vase in the house to replace this one".

He smiled warmly at Danielle. "Think nothing of it, Danielle. In truth, I was not particularly fond of this vase. You have done me great service by ridding me of its presence", he told her with a glint in his eyes.

Despite herself, she let out a soft laugh of relief and said, "Again, I am sorry."

Emma patted her back and moved her over to the couch. "Sit down, dear and take a break." Then she turned to Erik, "Monsieur, may I speak with you privately?"

Erik nodded. "You may", he answered, then walked toward the door, away from the two other women.

Danielle sat for only a second. As soon as Erik and Emma were out the door, she fell to her knees and began helping Lacie pick up the pieces of the broken vase. "Why did you do that, Lacie?" she asked her.

"I just did not want you to get into any trouble."

"But you would have been in trouble."

Lacie could only shrug her shoulders.

"Well, thank you anyway, for everything."

That made Lacie smile and silently, they worked together to gather the broken pieces.

Emma looked up at Erik once they were a safe distance out the ballroom door.

"Monsieur, it has been a very long morning and I was about to fix an early afternoon tea and brunch for Danielle." She took a deep breath. "I know you wished to hear my report."

"Of course, I hope her progress has been satisfactory?"

"She has done _very_ well. Surprisingly, she already knew many of the things you wished for me to instruct."

His eyes widened slightly, "Yes? From where?"

"Her mother, before her passing, Monsieur."

He nodded appreciatively. "Indeed", he replied. "I am very happy to hear this. So you feel she will be ready for what is required of her?" His eyes drifted toward the cracked door and to Danielle who was still helping Lacie pick up the shards of porcelain. The two girls had the appearance of two friends who had known each other for years. It pleased him. Lacie was a nice girl, and would be a good influence on Danielle. He suspected that she did not have many friends her age.

"Yes, Monsieur, she is very graceful and socially charming in every way. She appears to not be quite as shy and reserved as she did when she first arrived. There is one thing, however..." She looked around, then leaned into Erik closer, "I assumed, you know, with what her mother had taught her, that her father must have instructed her on dancing, but it appears that is not the case. She has not been taught. I know there will be dancing at the party and...well...that is probably the last, but most important lesson." She smiled kindly up at him.

Erik pursed his lips and nodded. "Well, then, I shall have to teach her", he said. "I do not have any engagements this afternoon, so perhaps if she is not too tired, we could start today. Emma, please see that refreshments are served in my library. I shall share the meal with her", he added.

"Alone, Monsieur?" she asked sharply, not meaning to. She blushed. Never had she questioned her Master's orders.

Erik opened his mouth, then closed it immediately. He had known Emma for a long time, she was always allowed to offer her own thoughts respectfully, but this still caught him off guard. "Yes, Emma, alone", he replied. He was well aware that Emma knew of his more private habits. After all, she escorted his mistresses up to his chambers upon their arrival. He cringed at the thought that Emma was perhaps misled as to what his intentions were with Danielle. "We will share a meal together and that is all," he added quickly, and firmly.

"Of course, Monsieur, I shall prepare the refreshments right away."

And with that, Emma left quickly without another word, thankful she was not admonished for her slip of the tongue.

Erik let out a deep breath. No, Danielle would not be treated like one of his many mistresses.

He returned to stand next to her. "Danielle", he offered, "I would be honored if you would have some refreshments in my company. Emma is preparing the meal as we speak, and I thought we could converse in my library?" He found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response.

She looked at Lacie, then back up to Erik and replied gratefully, "I would love to, thank you."

Lacie grinned from ear to ear. Never had she seen her Master so cordial. Yes, he was a fair and courteous man, but this was different and she knew Danielle was the reason. For that, she could thank her a thousand times over. Perhaps that is why she tried to take the blame for the vase. She simply wanted to keep Danielle in his favor.

Erik held out his hand for Danielle to take. "Here..."

His smile broadened as he felt Danielle's delicate hand press against his palm, and he helped her up to her feet. She had used lotion, he could feel her skin was noticeably softer and silkier than it was when they were first introduced.

Or perhaps it was his imagination? He didn't care.

She gasped slightly as she felt his thumb caress her hand. He noticed her obvious blisters and needle pricks from her long hours of sewing, she was sure of it. It made her uneasy.

"I apologize...I do not have the hands of a lady...my fingers...I have been sewing extra to make up for the hours I have been spending here and..."

Erik kept her hand cradled in his own, his thumb caressing her warm skin. "You have lovely hands, Danielle. They have character. They are not the idle hands of a lady who spends their days lazing in her boudoir, doing nothing productive", he smiled. "Take pride in your work, it is honorable". His eyes never left hers.

She could only nod at his thoughtfulness.

_Oh, Erik, if you only knew..._

* * *

After a leisurely half hour and a pleasant meal, Emma took the tray and observed Danielle's plate. "My, dear, I love to see a lady with a nice appetite."

Danielle sipped the last of her tea and placed it on the tray, "With a meal as fine as this, I daresay one does develop a healthy appetite."

Emma laughed deeply, "Then perhaps you can persuade Monsieur Erik to do the same, he hardly eats enough to keep a bird alive."

Danielle also laughed, noting it to be very true, for she had observed that Erik ate hardly anything. "I shall try, but you know how men can get...stubborn." She spoke before she thought about it.

What boldness!

She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed softly, hoping she didn't offend Erik.

Erik was wholeheartedly amused at her comment. He did not know what was more charming, her words, or the shy laughter she tried to stifle with her hand.

"I think the vast majority of my acquaintances would agree with you, my dear", he replied with mirth. "I am afraid that my stubbornness is a trait I was born with, and shall remain with me forever". He sat back and crossed his leg, taking another sip of his jasmine tea, his favorite.

And with that, Emma excused herself silently. She could tell her master wanted to be alone.

Erik glanced at Emma and smirked as she left. He swore that some days, the woman could read his mind. He cleared his throat, then put down his cup and saucer. "Danielle, I know it was agreed that you would be here this morning only, but..." he looked up at her. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to insult her, or appear presumptuous, "It has been brought to my attention that you might be in need of a few dance lessons, and I was hoping you would allow me to instruct you", he finished. He hoped he had not sounded like he wanted to take advantage of her. Dancing did require a level of intimacy, and he was leery of scaring her.

She cleared her throat, "Yes, I do need lessons, but I am afraid I will not be able to learn enough by Saturday night to be adequate at the party." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Plus...I must return home by five."

Erik looked down at her hands. She was fiddling with the sleeve of her gown, and he could sense her nervousness creeping up again. Whatever was waiting for her, she was not looking forward to it and it was clearly the source of her sudden agitation. "I think I can teach you the very basics this afternoon, it will only require a few minutes. Then tomorrow morning, we shall practice until you feel comfortable enough, all day if we have to", he said softly.

"Tomorrow?" she asked, her voice trembling. She had not expected that they would spend the day together, only the night… long enough to go to the party.

It would be Saturday, the busiest day of the week at the shop and her father had already told her she_ had_ to be there during the day, which she readily agreed to, telling him that Michelle would not need her until the evening.

She stood up quickly. "Perhaps we should do most of the lesson now...I cannot be here tomorrow until time for the party."

"Danielle..." Erik inquired, rising with her, "I felt your nervousness just now at the mention of your returning home on time. I hope you know that you can talk to me... should you choose to?" He gently put his hand on hers.

"Again, I am sorry, Erik...I do not mean to be so elusive, it is just that I..." She took a deep breath. "When I told you yesterday that my father did not know I was here, it was true. He believes I am with my cousin Michelle. She is with child and I told him her husband had been taking work out of Paris and she was ill with the pregnancy. In truth, she is quite well and aware of the deception and is covering for me. Father has never been fond of Michelle, so he would never correspond with her to verify the story."

She stopped and turned away.

"If I do not return home on time, he will forbid me from leaving again."

Erik's mouth dropped open. Danielle was not a child, yet she was clearly being treated like one, resorting to deception and lies to simply leave her home for a few hours. "I see", he said, knotting his hand behind his back. "You are not allowed to come and go as you please?" he asked incredulously.

She laughed softly. "I suppose...being the clumsy, ignorant girl that I am, Father believes I can scarcely take care of myself if left alone for too long. Perhaps, he is right. Here, I am in your home less than a few hours and I break one of your cherished vases."

She turned back and looked him directly in the eyes. "It was your favorite."

Erik's eyes widened. She could not have known.

"Clumsy, ignorant... no. But you are _perceptive_, I shall grant you that", he replied in awe. "That vase was one of my nicer ones, but I have dozens more. It shall not be missed. What truly distresses me is the way in which you speak of yourself", he added, his voice tainted with disbelief.

"But I only speak the truth, you told me in the garden you admired that." She stuck out her hands for him to see. "Look...my fingers are full of needle pricks, I stab myself all the time."

Erik took her hands. He _could_ see the small needle pricks on her fingertips. But he was still not willing to let her put herself down. That girl had no self-esteem. He was all too familiar the signs, he mused.

"I am not skilled in the art of sewing", he told her with a smirk, "but I can imagine that such incidents are bound to occur. It is not a sign of clumsiness. And certainly not one of ignorance", he added. "Danielle... I do not know who put these ideas in your head, and I have not known you for very long, but I can see that you are a charming, natural young woman, a rare treasure. I wish you could see yourself for what you truly are", he finished.

"You are too kind to me and you do not have to be, Erik."

Again, their eyes met and an almost deafening silence fell between them.

It was then that she truly noticed how strikingly handsome he was, mask or no mask. She was intrigued by his lips, how full they were when parted slightly as he breathed deeply through his mouth. His hands….how large, yet so gentle when they held her hand. His eyes…how they could seemingly change from a soft, kind gray/green to dark and mysterious…like they were at that very moment. What could a man be thinking to make his eyes turn like that?

She stammered, then looked away and coughed slightly, "Perhaps we should begin the lesson?"

Erik decided to drop the subject for now. If she was to be home by five, indeed they should begin immediately. He offered his arm to her. "Let me take you to the ballroom", he invited.

Alone together, they stood in the middle of the ballroom, looking at one another.

"So, what should I do?" She asked.

Of course, she already knew what to do. She knew how to dance, but had not danced in nearly eight years. She mused to herself at how long it truly had been. But of course, Erik would not...must not ever know that. Secrets like that, when revealed, often open the door to more, deeper hidden ones. Ones she was not prepared to bring to light. No, not with a man whom she would only spend two nights with.

Erik saw the shadow in Danielle's eyes again. More than ever he was intrigued by the air of mystery surrounding her. In all appearance she led a quiet existence, yet he sensed that secrets lay deep inside her, locked away. He hoped that one day, she would choose to confide in him. Perhaps she would even think of him as a friend.

Perhaps.

He sighed, then stepped closer to her. He coughed to hide a sudden wave of embarrassment, then opened his arm. "Put your left hand on my waist, and your right hand... here", he instructed, taking her right hand in his. He then pressed his other hand at the small of her back. He inhaled sharply. He had not yet been this close to her and her delicate scent swirled around her.

He looked down at her as his lips curled slightly in an almost nervous grin.

She did as she was told and returned the smile.

_The valse_...she laughed inwardly at the innocent way he was starting her out so simply, she found it sweet and charming.

"I suppose it would be easier with music, but we shall have to do without for now. The valse is easy and requires little or no skills. And it is the basis of many, more intricate dances. Simply draw a square with your feet, and just follow my legs. When I step back, you step forward. Are you ready?" he asked, the smile never leaving his lips.

She nodded, impressed with his instruction. She did know the valse, but she was still a bit rusty.

Erik began slowly, his long legs moving expertly, and he found that Danielle was following him, almost perfectly in tune with him. He was pleased. She would be a natural.

Soon they were dancing together to the silent symphony in his head, gradually pulling her closer and closer to his body. Her frame was small and delicate, yet she felt strong in his arms. Soon, he felt her body against his, her firm breasts pressed against his chest and he gasped.

Relieved her body seemed to instinctively remember the steps, she relaxed and fell into a rhythm with his body. Cheek to cheek, she could smell his scent and inhaled it deeply, gratefully. He smelled wonderful. So long she had gone without...so long...

And when her lips brushed against the collar of his shirt, she didn't stop. It just felt too right.

His heart thudded in his chest as he felt Danielle's incredibly soft cheek brushing against his. Instinctively, he pulled her even closer to his body and he leaned his head in, his lips stroking a delicate patch of skin at the base of her ear. She was so soft ... He closed his eyes, his breath warming her skin.

She gasped when she felt his lips against her and in automatic response her hand clutching his shirt around his waist for support. She would grow faint, she was sure of it. But, she did not, although, slowly, more and more sensations that she had fought for so long began to rush back into her mind like a massive flood. She wasn't sure she could be strong enough to stop it.

Erik's body responded to her touch and he felt the familiar, hot sensations in the pit of his stomach, creeping lower until he groaned. He dropped her right hand and moved both of his arms around her waist, holding her tightly against him. His mind whirled, need poured over him.

Her eyes closed hard as her body begged to be touched more, much more. Her lips wished to be kissed. She needed for his hands to caress her body, to fulfill that burning desire she had kept so tightly tucked away in a lonely part of her heart.

Engulfed with passion, she looked into Erik's eyes and whispered breathlessly, "Kiss me..."

Erik's hands clutched at the small of Danielle's back and his eyes turned even darker with barely contained desire. He licked his lips, gasping at her simple, yet fervent request. "Oh God yes..." he breathed before pressing his lips against hers. He did not notice that they had now stopped dancing. He inhaled, then deepened the kiss, feeling their lips parting slowly.

In a rush of desire, her arms flew around his neck, pulling him even harder against her neglected lips, crying out softly. He felt so good, his strong arms around her, pulling to him, the heat coming from the both, tremendous. How could she possibly express what one kiss was doing to her? How could she tell him that in one moment, he has caused her to live again? Not sense...

Her mind froze.

Richard.

It was exactly how it began with Richard Dupré, Madame Dupré's eldest son. Just a kiss and she was hopelessly lost. She gave herself to him, mind, soul...and body. Her first true love...and her last.

No, she could not let that happen again. She would not give her heart to another man and allow it to be broken.

"No..." she cried, her lips still against Erik's. She pushed herself away, both hands on his chest. With the back of her hand, she swiped at her lips as if she was trying to rid herself of the taste. "I...I am sorry, but I cannot...we hardly know..." she began to back away. The world was closing in around her, and fast.

Erik immediately felt the shift in her body and her sudden cry lifted the veil of desire from his mind. He felt disoriented for a second as his eyes finally opened in time to watch her wipe her lips.

He was horrified to see her suddenly turn and flee from him, yet he found the strength to run after her. Surely, she was not disgusted at his appearance, she had not even tried to lift the mask, she could not...

He caught up with her at the door. "Danielle, no... I am sorry, I should not have..." he pleaded apologetically, his lips still wet from their passionate embrace.

She faced the door, refusing to look back at him. "Let me go, please, I must leave." Her words were followed by the chime of Erik's clock. Two o'clock. Too early to leave, but too dangerous to stay. She frantically grabbed for the knob but gasped when his hand grabbed hers.

"Talk to me…" he pressed his lips against her ear, but kept his body away.

"I….cannot…." That is when she began to cry. Shaking off his hand, she turned the knob and opened the door, running out into the foyer.

He reluctantly let her go. He had no choice; she was not truly his wife. He shut the door and leaned against it in defeat, cursing himself for his impetuousness and lack of self control, his body still throbbing from intense desire.

Danielle ran for the front door...

_To hell with this arrangement, to hell with everything_….she cried.

….she got only a foot from the door when she crashed into Lacie.

"Owww!" the maid wailed, the basket of clean linens from the laundry falling to the foyer floor.

Danielle cried out, "I am sorry Lacie…" but had no intention of remaining to help pick them up. She again went for the door.

"Danielle, what is wrong?" Lacie grabbed her around the waist in a hug.

"Please, I want to go home!" she cried.

"No, no come with me…you cannot leave like this…." Lacie held her firmly and walked her out of the foyer and into the first guestroom.

"What happened? Did Monsieur Erik hurt you?" she asked softly once she shut the door behind her. She couldn't fathom her Master harming Danielle, but why else would she be so upset?

Danielle could only shake her head before collapsing onto the bed, with Lacie close behind, stroking her hair.

"Then what is it? You know you can tell me anything…I only want to help."

She looked up into Lacie's eyes. It was then she began to speak and once she began….she found she couldn't stop.

She told Lacie everything.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed our story so far. We love getting feedback and it spurs us on to continue this crazy thing. So, that being said, we will not be able to update until Tuesday night, due to family and holiday obligations. Hope this holds you all out until then. Please review if you haven't. I promise, Monday night we'll write another chapter and I'll have it up Tuesday night.**

**For those who celebrate it, Happy Easter. Love, Melissa and Roxanne ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Seven:

An hour later it was all out.

Danielle had talked and cried so much over that period of time that she was sure she didn't have another drop of moisture in her whole body. Lacie stood to fetch her a glass of water from the bedside table, but saw the brandydecanter instead.

That would work.

She brought the glass of amber liquid to Danielle and she swallowed it without protest, that is….until she realized it was not water.

Coughing, she fought for her breath and finally squeaked out, "What was that?"

Lacie laughed, "Brandy. I thought it would calm you better than water."

That, Danielle couldn't argue. She did feel rather warm. And tired.

Sensing her need to rest, Lacie stood up from the bed and began to leave the room quietly, but Danielle shot up again.

"Lacie?"

"Yes?" she smiled.

"Do not tell Erik anything, please. Promise me?"

Lacie turned back to her, regarding her with confusion. "Do you not think he should know? After all, you are going to be encountering….."

"No. If all goes well, I shall not see him. Besides, Erik has already agreed to address me as Madame Renault, not by my first name. This arrangement is for two public engagements, nothing more….then I shall return to my life….and Erik will return to his."

"But…"

"Please! Do this for me…swear it on the soul of your father…then I know you will not betray my trust."

She frowned, but agreed. "Yes, I shall swear to you, on the soul of my father, that I shall not speak a word to Erik about what you have told me here today."

Danielle fell back onto the bed and let out her breath. "Thank you, Lacie."

"Rest now."

"Yes, I will need it. Please, wake me by four o'clock, I cannot be late going home."

"I shall."

And with that, Lacie closed the door, softly smiling to herself.

Yes, she had promised not to tell Erik, but she had not promised to keep it from Emma.

And everyone knows…..Emma _never_ keeps anything from Erik.

* * *

It might have taken an hour for Danielle to tell her story to Lacie, but it only took Lacie twenty minutes to relay the same story to Emma, who until then had been refolding the linens that Lacie had dropped in the foyer.

The older woman gasped in shock as she placed the linens away. "That explains so much, the dear woman."

"Yes, I know, that is why I had to tell you. Monsieur Erik should know but I had made a solemn promise not to tell him myself, that is why I came to you."

"And as well you should have, child….thank you. Where is Danielle now?"

"Resting in the Rose Room, she was so tired. I am to awaken her at four o'clock so she may leave for her home."

Emma closed the linen closet and looked at Lacie thoughtfully, "Then I have only a short time to talk to Monsieur Erik."

* * *

Erik sat in his music room, his fingertips barely stroking the mother of pearl keys of his grand piano. He smiled softly. Though the keys were cold, they felt as smooth as Danielle's cheek.

He had not intended to come in here when he left the ballroom after a distraught Danielle had fled from the room to escape the desire they felt for each other. He had wanted to run after her, but thought better of it. She needed space, and he needed to think. He was on his way to his library, his sanctuary, his one place of refuge, when he passed the ornately carved mahogany double doors of his music room. He had stopped, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was sitting at his piano.

It had been months since he last played music in there. Music brought back painful memories, memories of a love gone terribly wrong, of deep hurt and sheer madness.

Erik always thought that if he could help it at all, he would never play again. He was a businessman now, and had worked hard to bury the artist deep within the dark recesses of his spirit, never to see the light of day again.

Yet, he was here, now.

He stared at the keys for a long time after lifting the piano cover. Emma came in here despite his orders, he mused, for not a speck of dust could be found on the expensive black lacquered instrument.

Danielle.

He pressed harder on the keys and he gasped as the soft melodic sound of one of his earlier arias drifted around the acoustic walls of his room. As he played, his thoughts turned to the soft spoken yet mysterious young woman again. What secrets lay within her? He found himself needing to know. He closed his eyes. He did not need to see. In fact, he kept his room dark, his drapes pulled tight against the afternoon sun, three candles from the candelabra on his piano the only illumination in the vast room. Immediately he saw her soft features in his mind and he sighed as he played.

He had feelings for her.

The revelation surprised and scared him, but he could no longer deny it. She was just a sheltered, plain-looking, scared little thing who had accepted his proposal only because she needed the money. He smiled. She had certainly not been shy about making that fact quite clear. But as he had sat with her and shared his meal with her, he had seen the spark in her bright, intelligent eyes, the rose high in her cheeks as she smiled at him, and the clear sound of her shy, but genuine laughter.

She was _not_ plain, she was beautiful. And when he kissed her in the ballroom, holding her delicate body close to him as they danced, the taste of her lips made him dizzy. They were so, so supple and the fresh taste of honey drew him in. He wanted more, his body demanding, then craving to touch her, to caress her silky skin and to give her the pleasure he knew she had yearned as much as he had. He had felt it to the very core of her being. Yet, she had fled, but his need had not abated. He suspected that it would only grow from now on, until they could finally be together. And they would be. Of this, he was sure.

His eyelids fluttered at the memory of her touch and his body followed the rhythm of his aria, the intensity mounting until he swayed softly, almost hypnotically, his fingers moving effortlessly over the keys. The music was gentle yet tainted with an underlying passion that he had not intended to be heard through the notes but could not even think to stop.

He swayed, soon losing himself in his beloved music and his heart thundered in his chest. He felt liberated, the floodgates opened and he knew at that very moment that they would never close again.

Then slowly, softly, seemingly out of the darkest passages of his imagination, a voice spoke….

"Monsieur…?

"Danielle?" he gasped, his eyes flying open as his fingers halted on the keys. He turned his head to see her, to gaze upon her lovely features.

But it was not her.

_Emma…_

"Monsieur, we need to talk…."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know we were not going to update until Tuesday night, but you all have been so wonderful with your reviews and comments that we felt we owed it to all of you to post another chapter. I'm sorry for it being so short, but I promise you, tomorrow night everything will be explained and the chapter will be longer. We're writing it tonight and I can't wait! Please keep reviewing and add us to your favorite's list! Thanks so much! Melissa and Roxanne ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Eight: 

Erik shook his head, abruptly brought out if his reverie by Emma, who stood by the door rather impatiently. He signed, then quickly closed the piano cover with a loud noise. He did not take well to being interrupted in his music room, "Yes, Emma, what is it?" he offered flatly.

She jumped at the loud sound he made in his irritation, then gathered her breath. Clutching to the side of her long wool skirt, she walked inside the music room, taking it upon herself to lock the door behind her. Now was not the time for interruptions.

"I apologize, Monsieur, I heard you playing. You have not played in some time. But...I have some information about Mademoiselle Danielle that you need to hear and I, in good conscience, feel it should not wait a moment longer."

Erik tried his best to hide his intolerance. Not at Emma's interruption, but at the mention of Danielle. He was going to finally learn more. He furrowed his eyes and imperceptivity moved forward on his bench, his hands resting on his thighs. "Is that so," he said, hoping his casual tone would hide his haste, "then I guess you had better tell me now." He regarded his trusted maid, his eyes glistening.

Her eyes glanced toward the leather couch at the other end of the room and she slowly moved there, then she stood by the tall, leather chair, her hands clutching the back of it as she waited for Erik to join her and allow her to sit.

This would not be something she could say standing up.

Erik followed her with his eyes and understood her non verbal message. He took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to the opposite side of the room in long, unhurried strides. "You may sit, Emma", he said, gesturing with his hand for Emma to take a seat on the rich, buttery leather couch. He then joined her and turned his body to face her. "Now, speak", he said firmly, yet gently.

Sighing to gather her thoughts, she spoke strongly, "Mademoiselle Danielle has not left the house as you first thought, she is still here, resting in the Rose Room."

That took him by surprise, he was sure she had left.

Fiddling with her skirt, she continued, "Lacie took care of her and Mademoiselle Danielle spoke of her troubles to her. Of course, Lacie could not come to you as she made a promise to keep silent, but she came to me, knowing_ I_ would come to you."

"I see. And what did she tell Lacie?" His impatience grew by the second.

Again, she took a deep breath. "Monsieur, Mademoiselle Danielle was once involved with Madame Dupré's son, Richard."

He regarded Emma incredulously. "Involved? To what degree?" He inquired.

She blurted out, "They were…_lovers_, Monsieur."

Erik's mouth dropped open as he put two and two together. So this was the reason why she was so insistent on being called Madame Renault. His blood ran cold at the thought of another man even remotely involved with Danielle. What was he thinking? He barely knew this woman, not really….and here he was….jealous?

_Bloody hell._

Emma's words rang in his head. Were. They _were_ lovers, meaning the affair had ended and not on good terms, he suspected. He looked at her again. "I imagine there is more. Go on."

"Yes, Monsieur, from what Lacie could piece together...the poor dear was rather distraught...the affair happened about a year after her Mother had died. She was out one day, picking up material for the shop when she met Richard Dupré. He was waiting outside by his carriage while his mother was inside another shop." She took an additional breath, "Knowing his place in society, she pretended to be from Rouen, the daughter of an influential family. He courted her and they fell in love. Eventually, however, she told him the truth, that she was not of social status, but a commoner, the daughter of a dress shop owner, yet she was delighted to discover he did not care and chose to continue courting her, telling her that his mother need not know the truth." She stopped to let Erik take it all in.

Erik listened intently, drinking every word. "Then if everything went so well... what happened?" he asked, leaning slightly closer to Emma.

"She was working behind the counter in her shop one day when Monsieur Dupré came in. She said he looked almost wild-eyed and very uncomfortable. He told her that their relationship was over and that he had chosen to marry someone else. She said she asked him why…what changed his mind, but he only replied that his mother was insistent on him being married, and she simply was not good enough to be Madame Dupré. She was devastated of course..."

Erik's eyes widened and he stood up abruptly. "What prompted his decision? Surely he would not just decide one day that that she was unfit to be his wife!" He started pacing, his fists clenched at his sides.

"She told me that later on that night, her father had come to her, angry…very angry. He said that he had gone to Monsieur Dupré and tried to forward an engagement, only to be told that she was...unclean…no longer a virgin. Apparently, Monsieur Dupré had taken Mademoiselle Danielle's virginity, under the guise that they would marry."

His eyes widened with sudden rage.

She sighed, looking at Erik, "That was his exact word, 'unclean'.

Erik turned on his heels and slammed his fist on his piano, the chords vibrating within. "So that is it. He just discarded her after he had his way with her", he hissed. His eyes narrowing into angry slits. "Spineless coward", he boomed, "does this man have no sense of honor?" he asked her rhetorically. "She is not a mistress to be toyed with and discarded….she has feelings! She was lead to believe they would marry."

"Yes, Monsieur, it would appear so. Now, you see, she is afraid that if she is addressed as Danielle, if Monsieur Dupré is there, he might recognize her and of course, you know what would happen if she was recognized..." Emma stated matter of factly, knowing what she would say next would both mystify and elate her Master. "She told Lacie...she would suffer penniless before she would allow _you_ to suffer humiliation in any way. After all...she has… feelings for you..."

Erik stood rooted in place as Emma's words fell upon him.

Dear God in heaven!

So what he felt earlier was true. His heart jumped in his chest and he smiled despite himself. "Feelings", he said to Emma, returning to sit next to her on the couch. "She said that?" he asked, almost afraid that he had heard incorrectly.

"Yes." She returned his smile.

Erik nodded and looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. A nagging thought crept into his mind, an all too familiar feeling he wished he could push back, but could not.

Pity.

What if what she felt for him _was_ pity? Of course, she had not said anything about his mask and had not seemed repulsed when they had kissed earlier, but... Christine had kissed him. And she had still called him a monster.

Emma knew by the look in his eye what was bothering him. She softened her tone and addressed him kindly, "Monsieur...she asked Lacie about your mask."

He looked up at her sharply. "What did she say? Do not spare me," he said softly, "I must know."

"Lacie only spoke of what she knew. You have always been generous to all of us, giving us the choice to view you without your mask in order for us to make the decision to stay. Lacie told her what we all know...that your face is badly disfigured." She momentarily looked away, but then looked back and continued, "Yet, in light of what Lacie described to her, Mademoiselle Danielle's feelings did not change, although I do believe she has questions."

He studied his head maid very closely. She was not sparing him, just as he had asked. "Of course she would", he agreed. "Danielle is intelligent and inquisitive, she would want to know".

"Perhaps she will ask, in time, in her own way."

"And she will see me for who I am, if she so wishes", he responded. He felt relieved, but he still had many questions of his own about Richard Dupré and the way he quite obviously hurt Danielle.

Emma stood, "Of course, there is more that she said in her sadness, but that is for Mademoiselle Danielle to tell, not I. I only came to inform you of Monsieur Dupré, given the upcoming party."

She walked to the door, gripped the knob and unlocked it, then turned back to Erik. "Lacie will be waking her soon, shall I have her brought to you here?"

"Yes, please, if she so wishes, of course". He looked up at her and smiled faintly. "Thank you for coming to me, Emma."

She smiled brightly at him, "Of course, Monsieur."

And with that, she left him alone, again.

* * *

Erik sat on his couch for several long minutes after Emma had departed. His mind was still processing all the information and he was confused, angry and strangely happy, all at the same time. Tapping his fingers on this thigh, once again he found himself drawn to his piano, the keys beckoning to him. 

He moved to his bench and lifted the cover, his eyes closing as he splayed his fingers on the milky white keys. After a long, drawn out breath, he instinctively chose another one of his concertos, one he had composed in his cellars at the opera house. A lifetime ago, it seemed. But of course he remembered the notes, each and every one of them.

But this time, it was not Christine that he saw before him, but Danielle, her shimmery, strawberry colored hair appeared on fire against the candlelight surrounding them. Emotion poured out of him, from his heart to his fingers and he played with more and more intensity.

_He was dancing with Danielle but this time, she was not fighting the desire that vibrated through every fiber of her being. He felt her clutch at him, seeking more... more of his burning kiss, their tongues dancing to the same languid rhythm as their bodies, more of his touch as he held her so close against him that he felt her heart beating against his chest, her nipples hard and aching against his heated skin…._

Erik took a deep, halting breath as his hands pounded the piano keys, his body throbbing and pulsing. The music grew louder and louder and was heard through the entire house now.

Danielle had risen no more than a few minutes earlier, her mind cloudy, hearing music….or was she? She concentrated hard, trying to pinpoint the source of the beautiful piece. It was almost hypnotic, but intense in its resonance. She slowly slid off the bed and walked out of the Rose Room, allowing her ears to guide her closer….

Erik started swaying along with the music that he had passionately composed, the melody coming so fast into his mind that he barely had time to commit the notes to paper, gritting his teeth with eagerness.

_He felt the same driving impatience now as he felt his arousal pressing against Danielle's flat stomach, digging into her, hard and demanding. It was so clear in his mind that he no longer saw himself at his piano, but in the ballroom with her, his hands sliding along her body, seeking, learning every curve of her feminine form._

She finally came to the entrance of Erik's music room, her hands running along the cool but dark mahogany wood of the door as she pushed it open ever so slightly. There, in the darkness, with only a three-flame candelabrum to illuminate the room, she saw Erik, sitting at his piano. His hands flew masterfully over the keys, playing with a fire and passion she had not yet seen. She had only heard through rumours, and through Lacie's own lips of his genius in music, but this was the first time she had witnessed it for herself.

_He gasped out loud and he pounded at the keys even harder when, in his mind, Danielle whispered in his ear, her voice a faint but assured breath, "take me, Erik"..._

…_he groaned as he pulled her down on the floor, laying her gently on the hardwood floor. He moved to lay over her, his weight covering her, yet she did not seem to mind as her trembling fingers opened his shirt. He heard her soft moan as her hands sought the burning heat of his skin and he lost all control. He kicked her legs apart, grinding himself against her and he felt her surge toward him, her legs twining with his. He slanted his mouth and crushed his lips to hers, his fingers removing the clip in her hair… _

With the pounding drive of the music at its apex, Danielle found herself frozen, transfixed and unable…unwilling to move. Her eyes closed and she felt herself almost swoon with the music as it washed over her body…and she fell against the doorframe.

Erik's concerto reached its culmination and his fingers flew over the keys, abusing them and he swayed and swayed, a strand of slick hair falling on his forehead.

_He gripped the edge of Danielle's gown, sliding up until it was bunched around her waist. He raised his hips long enough to touch her silky undergarment and he pulled his lips away from hers, their mouths wet and swollen from their bruising kisses…._

Erik's sharp mind was brought out of his fantasy by the sound of the door creaking. He stopped playing, his fingers unmoving over the keys and panting heavily.

_Oh dear God, no_... he thought.

He shut his eyes.

Someone was there, watching.

Danielle gasped loudly as she was jolted by the sudden ending of Erik's playing. She held her ground, though she was apologetic.

"I am so sorry, Erik. I did not mean to interrupt your playing, please...continue, I shall not disturb you."

She turned and tried to leave, hoping he would continue, for she truly wanted to hear more.

"No!" he called out, but did not dare stand up. "Please come in", he asked, looking up at her.

She turned back to him and walked inside rather apprehensively. "If you are sure I am not disturbing you..."

He slammed the piano cover shut. "You are not, Danielle, I am delighted that you have not left yet. Please have a seat," he motioned toward the leather couch.

She walked over and sat down as he instructed, nervously staying on the edge of the seat and placing her hands on her lap, her back straight as an arrow.

"That piece was magnificent...what was it?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "A piece I composed a long time ago. I am surprised I still remember", he replied. He hoped she would not ask further questions.

"It appears you remembered it quite well," she laughed softly.

She looked down and a long silence fell again before she finally spoke, "Erik...I apologize for..." her words stammered harshly.

He sighed. His desire having abated somewhat, he stood up and walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. He took her hands in his, caressing her fingers with his thumbs and shivered slightly when his knees brushed against hers but he did not let go of her hands. He looked up into her eyes, holding her gaze.

"There is no need for apologies...Danielle". Her name was a low whisper in his throat.

"But", he clutched her hands, "perhaps there are things you need to be telling me". He searched her eyes, his eyes soft and reassuring.

Her body visibly slumped as she felt his hands on hers.

_Oh god...how could he be so understanding, unless….he…?_

"You know...don't you?"

He nodded slowly, but kept his eyes locked with hers, and his thumbs caressed her fingers comfortingly.

"I have been told", he continued softly.

Suddenly she jumped up and paced around the room, "She had no right! No right at all! She promised me…and on her father's very soul! She betrayed me!" With a fire and vigour she didn't know she possessed, she headed for the door, determined to ring Lacie's neck. "When I get my hands on her..."

Erik rose from the couch and reached Danielle before she had time to even make it to the door. He slid his body between her and the carved mahogany, his hand gripping the bronze doorknob.

She stopped cold, knowing his physical strength outmatched hers two fold. Groaning, she turned away from him and walked to his piano, pressing her hands on it so hard they turned white.

"What did she tell you?" she refused to look at him. Surely Lacie had not told him everything...not about the dream.

_The dream..._

It had been so vivid the night before that she'd awakened in a cold sweat, hardly able to catch her breath. So real she could almost taste him on her lips, still feel the weight of him on her small frame. So intense, she was sure she'd cried out and awakened her father. But she'd risen to find her him still sound asleep.

No, Lacie couldn't have told Erik..._that_?

Erik's body relaxed and he pressed his back to the door. "She told me about Richard Dupré", he stated simply. "What he was to you and... what happened". He moved away from the door to stand behind her. He touched her shoulders and sighed when she made no move to push him away.

Her eyes widened in realization. "That is all Lacie told you?"

"Lacie did not tell me, Emma did."

"What?"_ Emma? How did she….?_

"Lacie told Emma, and Emma told me." He stroked her shoulders and he breathed in the scent of her hair. It smelled of freshly cut flowers and it made him smile. He turned her so that she faced him and their eyes locked. "And no, I know nothing more. You shall have to tell me the rest of your story, but only if you are ready."

The relief she felt surely showed on her face. Lacie had not betrayed her most intimate trust after all, but she could not help but be disturbed that she spoke at all, especially about Richard Dupré.

She swallowed hard, her lips just inches from his. How she wanted to taste them again. But...no...she would not give in to temptation.

"What do you wish to know about Richard and me? Our relationship ended so long ago and I have not seen him since."

He slid his hands from her shoulders to her hands and held them against his chest.

"And you are afraid to see him again", he said, "that is why you were so adamant about being addressed as Madame Renault, and not as _Danielle_ Renault."

"No..." she answered quickly, "...yes...perhaps, I do not know. It has been eight years and I have changed, physically, mentally. There is no guarantee that Madame Dupré would recognize me, as I only met her once…but Richard…what if he is there? I mean, what would he say if he saw us together, as man and wife? He knows I am not...of status...which I would have to be to be married to you. He could expose you...expose _us_ as a fraud. I do not want that to happen, I would rather..." she looked down and chose not to speak further.

Erik pulled her hands up to his lips, brushing a soft kiss on her fingers. "I do not care what he thinks. We could have met secretly, and we could have decided to marry quickly, somewhere far away from Paris. It has been known to happen." He offered light-heartedly, but immediately turned serious again. "Danielle..." he breathed against her hands.

She lost all thought. At that very moment, she could agree to almost anything, just as long as he looked at her like that...touched her with his lips like that...

"I do not know how it all happened, but I..." He took a deep breath, willing himself to continue. "I cannot bear the thought of anyone hurting you the way that man did. Because I care for you so much I can scarcely breathe…" He panted softly, looking down at her, searching her eyes.

She inhaled sharply, hardly believing what she heard, "You...care for...me?" She shook her head, "How can you, after hearing what I've done? I am...I am...nothing, Erik. Unworthy of any man...do you not understand that?"

He shook his head. "Why would I understand that? It is nonsense, Danielle. I know you do not see it. I know you have been trained to believe you are unworthy of happiness..." he urged, "but…you must promise me one thing..." He still held her hands against his lips, and waited for her answer.

"Yes?" At this point, she would promise him the moon.

"Promise me you will let me teach you how to be loved, Danielle. Promise me?" he asked earnestly.

And with that, in one moment, his words gave her hope, hope she _could_ love again….

Her eyes filled with tears and with it, she gave a small laugh of...dare she say it...elation? She looked at the handsome, kind hearted man who wore a mask, whose own memories of lost love made him as lonely as she had been….and she had been willing to show _him_ the way…

With a nod of unspoken promise, she touched his cheek and replied, "And here, I was going to ask you to do the same thing for me."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, don't panic, there is more to her story, which will come in bits and pieces later. Plus, we're trying to get Danielle out of her 'weepy' state. She will of course as she sees more of Erik. -big grin- My God at the reviews! Thanks so much to everyone for reading and reviewing for us! It only makes us work harder to make the story the best that we can.**

**So, for the downside. Roxanne has returned to work after her vacay, so our late nights are having to cease. Yes, we are still writing at night, but the chapters may be a bit shorter and we might only update a couple of days a week (at the LEAST). So, we will probably not update tomorrow. BUT, we WILL update, rest assured. Don't cha hate stories that just stop in the middle? No, we will finish this, as we already know how its going to play out. As with all good things, it will come in time. Until then, sit back and enjoy. Thanks again! Melissa ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Nine: 

----------

_Someday I'll fly away_

_Leave all this to…yesterday….._

_-----------_

The next morning came all too quickly and Danielle scrambled to make breakfast for her father, after an early morning delivery to the shop took longer than usual.

The night before had been a rough one. She had sat and spoke with Erik far longer than either of them anticipated. Not that she minded, of course, she was completely fascinated by his tales of times he spent in Persia and Russia, delighting crowds at the Grand Fair there. Yet, she'd panicked when the clock struck five o'clock.

Erik had remained calm. He called upon his driver, Jacques, to bring her home and inform her father that the carriage had broken a wheel and took time to repair, thus forcing the late hour of her arrival. She had not been sure that it would work, but she had to try something, anything….she knew if she didn't, her father would make good on his threat and not allow her out of the house again.

She recalled the scene vividly, how nervous she was, wringing her hands as she sat alone in the carriage, while Jacques told her humorous jokes to try and make her laugh. She did laugh, until the carriage pulled up in front of her shop and she saw her father practically run out. He threw the door of the carriage open….

"_You are more than an hour late, where have you been, girl?" he had growled at her and Danielle felt herself begin to sink, then stopped herself and with a glance from Jacques, straightened herself up again._

"_Answer me! Do you realize just how much trouble you are in?"_

"_Monsieur, please do not be angry, it is not the Mademoiselle's fault." Jacques had spoken up in her defense. He jumped down from the top of the carriage and came to Danielle, taking her hand and helping her out._

_Jean-Pierre started for Jacques, looking him up and down, "Young man, I suggest that you hold your tongue or I shall find other uses for it."_

"_Father!" Danielle shouted._

_She stopped cold, her mouth flying to her hand. She had never raised her voice like that. Yet, she could not have him speak that way to Jacques, even if it was a ruse. _

_Jean-Pierre turned sharply to Danielle in shock. He studied her, then studied Jacques, wondering what could prompt her to speak up in defense of a man she seemingly met only that day._

"_What did you say to me, girl?" his voice dropped._

_Before she could reply, Jacques interrupted, "Monsieur…please understand…the wheel of the carriage had broken on the way here. I had to fix it. I apologize for the late hour as Mademoiselle did tell me she would be late…." _

"_A broken wheel?" her father asked._

"_Yes, Monsieur…" Jacques gestured toward the right front of the carriage. Jean-Pierre moved to investigate, bending over and looking closely at a large black area where the wheel had obviously been repaired with some sort of tar._

_He stood and groaned. Loudly. Jacques shrugged his shoulders and she felt her father's almost debilitating stare. She was proud of herself for standing tall on her own, but still trying to appear much disheveled for the sake of the deception._

"_Get inside, Danielle, I shall settle up with the driver."_

She did not hesitate to do as she was told. She had to prepare dinner and thankfully, Evelyne had been kind enough to agree to market for her the previous day, so that morning, she had started a pot of roast and vegetables to cook on the stove all day in her absence.

The meal was spoken in thankful silence and, leaving Danielle to do the dishes, Jean-Pierre retired for the night to his room to do the books. She did not dare speak to him, did not dare ask if he was angry or if she would still be allowed to leave that next afternoon. She hated silence though, hated that uncomfortable tension, yet…she surmised….silence was better than his anger.

So, within a half hour of the shop opening that next day, Jean-Pierre sat at the table, sipping his coffee in one hand, tapping his fork against the wood impatiently with the other, watching Danielle toast his bread before spreading home made strawberry jam.

When she finally sat the plate in front of him, he sighed and began to eat without another word to her.

She prepared her plate and sat down next at the table across from him

Silence again, just like last night.

Or so she thought.

"I heard the door earlier downstairs. Who was it?" Of course, Jean-Pierre knew who it was. He had seen the handsome delivery man and had also seen, with distress, his daughter's reaction to him. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries. Something that he had not seen in quite some time.

"A delivery man bringing the material Madame Lamoureux requested for her gown." She answered simply, keeping her head down and picking at her food.

"I see." He answered simply.

"I heard the bell and decided not to bother you, as you were shaving."

She could sense something was wrong and she cringed, aware of how she had acted towards the delivery man. She had not been flirtatious, merely kind and considerate as anyone would, but it was not in her nature. Normally, she would have called for her father to receive the deliveries, even if he was not presentable. Yet, strange as it felt, she was also surprised at herself for actually interacting with another person without prompting from another or permission from her father. She could not wait to tell Emma, knowing she would be proud.

And she truly wished that Erik could have witnessed it as well.

Her father, on the other hand, was not pleased.

"I saw the way you acted with that young man." His voice was low and icy.

"I was friendly, Father. Nothing more, I assure you."

"You found him attractive."

"I did not notice."

"You smiled at him. You made pleasant conversation."

"Am I not supposed to, Father?"

He narrowed his eyes. She had never behaved this way before. He did not like it, not one bit. "First the carriage driver, now this delivery man. If I did not know you so well, I would say you were becoming quite the socialite." His words seemed innocent, yet his tone was tinged with venom.

Although she kept her head down, she could feel his gaze shoot daggers through her. "Father, the carriage driver could not have been over twenty-one, and as for the delivery man, he has been here before and Evelyne knows he is married."

"I did not ask for your opinion on their age or marital status. Do not answer the bell again, is that understood?"

Her head shot up and she met his gaze. "Why? Is it not bad business to keep anyone waiting? Even if it is a delivery?"

He laughed loudly, mockingly, "Why? You ask me why? You? You! Of all people to decide to grow a backbone. My dainty, quiet daughter, who scurries like a rat every time the lights are turned on? I am quite taken aback! I would like to know what Michelle is filling your head with. I am beginning to think you are spending far too much time with her, with her and whoever else might be paying a call. That is it, is it not?"

She gasped, but not for the reason he thought, "Please, Father…"

"_Please, Father_…" he groaned, his fist pounding the table, "That is all I ever hear from you!"

She jumped and when she did, he took a deep breath, his facial expression going from anger to patronizing. "Danielle, my dear. Must I keep reminding you? You know what you are, what you have done, the sins you have committed against God, against me. I only tell you this, my dear, to spare you the heartache of rejection over and over again, as any decent man in all of France does not want a tainted woman."

"We were engaged to be married, he told me…." She had told him this a thousand times already, still hoping one day he would finally believe her.

Jean-Pierre stood up and looked down at her, throwing her a most distasteful look of pity. "Dear foolish child…." He shook his head, "…still, after all these years are you blind. I have told you over and over, he had no intention to marry you. He was already engaged to Mademoiselle Catherine. You were only his mistress. For the sake of your sanity, child, wake up!"

Surprising even herself, she stood up and faced her father. "You are wrong! I was young and naïve, but I know what he told me. I am not _unclean_…or _damaged_. I was used, yes, but that is not my fault, it was his!" she practically screamed at him.

Her swift outburst was met with a hard slap to her face, throwing her back into her chair. She grabbed her stinging cheek, her mouth gaping in shock and tears forming in her eyes.

He stood over her, unapologetic, his tone eerily cold and controlled. "I am sorry to have done that, Danielle, but you were in hysterics. Apparently, you are losing your sense of place in this household. I assume you will not let it happen again."

She shook her head.

"As punishment for your sudden, albeit short act of defiance, you shall not be allowed to return to Michelle's tonight, or for that matter, any other night. It seems as if she has become a bad influence on you."

Danielle opened her mouth to protest as he began to leave the room and he shot her a harsh glance. She chose not speak.

When he left to go down to the shop, she ran for her room and threw herself down face first onto her bed, screaming angrily into the pillow.

It has been eight years since he'd laid a hand on her, not since the night that he found out she had given her virginity away to Richard Dupré and he'd refused to marry her. Then, like now, he had been unremorseful for his actions. Since that day, she'd been careful not to be defiant enough to warrant another one of his harsh reprimands.

Until today.

She messed up. She should not have said that to her father and now, because of it, she would not be returning to Erik. Everything she'd worked for would be for naught. Guilt washed over her.

She could see Erik, standing outside his home as the carriage returned empty. She could see his disappointment, confusion, sadness as Jacques informed him that she did not show. His heart breaking as he would have to endure the cocktail party alone, to face Christine de Chagny…alone.

_Oh, Erik, forgive me…._

That is when she finally sobbed.

* * *

Jules Bernard created a huge breach of etiquette by walking into Erik's library without being invited. He walked straight for Erik's desk, "Monsieur."

Erik looked up sharply from his daily paper, his eyes narrowing. Something must be wrong, Jules never came inside without permission.

This was Monsieur Bernard's second visit that morning. The first one came just after sunrise to report to Erik what he had observed the night before after following the carriage to Danielle's home. Erik had been most pleased that his plan had worked so flawlessly and had given Jules a second order to observe Danielle in the shop another couple of hours, to make sure there would be no problems with her leaving on time to return for the party.

Now he had returned… much sooner than expected. "Jules?"

Jules took a deep breath, "Monsieur, forgive the intrusion, but I have additional news that could not wait."

He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk, "Report."

Jules sat down in the chair and relaxed slightly before speaking again, "Monsieur, I was able to make it up to the second floor apartment through a fire escape. I observed Mademoiselle Danielle and her father engaged in a heated conversation. Apparently, she took a delivery in the shop without his permission. He accused her of being too _friendly_ and he berated her."

"Friendly?"

"Yes, Monsieur, but I observed her with my own eyes, she was courteous and considerate, nothing more."

"And how did her father berate her for this?"

Jules continued on, describing the fight in detail, including seeing Danielle being slapped. That did not settle well with Erik. He stood from the desk and began to pace.

"That is it, send Jacques to pick her up…now before the party. She will not return."

"Monsieur, you know that would only make things worse…"

"I do not care!" he interrupted.

"Monsieur, please, think. I am sure there is a way to bring Mademoiselle Danielle here without incident."

He growled. He could barely think. The man had no right to assault his daughter, no matter what she might have said to him. Despite it all, he could not help but smile thinking about how she had actually spoken up to him.

"And Monsieur, I am sorry to report, he has told her she was not to go back to her cousin's house tonight, or any other night."

Again, he growled even louder. "Not acceptable."

"On the way back here, Monsieur, I was thinking, perhaps we could send a messenger to the Durand house from her cousin, requesting her immediate presence. Didn't Mademoiselle Danielle say that her cousin was with child?"

"Umm…yes. Perhaps the cousin, Michelle is her name, has taken to further illness. And she has sent word to Danielle for help."

"Yes, I believe it might work. Monsieur Durand is a hard man, but perhaps he would not turn down the request, if it appears she is very ill."

"Or perhaps in labor." Erik added.

"Yes of course."

"Then take care of it as quickly as possible."

Jules nodded then rose from his chair and walked toward the door. He turned back around and said softly, "I found out this morning that the de Chagny's arrived last night. They are expected to attend the cocktail party as promised."

Then he slowly walked out the door.

Erik sighed, then turned towards the window.

_Christine, his Christine…_

He had not given her much thought since meeting Danielle and for that, he felt a bit ashamed. After all, was this deception not for Christine's sake?

Or was it now suddenly all for his?

* * *

By lunch time, Danielle had been watching the clock so much it did not appear that the hands even moved, but they had. Six hours. In six hours, Erik would know she would was not showing. It killed her inside, tore out her heart… piece by piece.

Since that morning confrontation with her father, she had not spoken to a soul. She came down to the shop and straight for the back to continue work on Madame Lamoureux's gown, thinking that if she finished it two days early, it might put her in better graces with her father.

Evelyne, a kind woman of forty-five, was the closest Danielle had in her scant thirty years, to an older sister. With a husband and four children of her own, she considered Danielle and Jean-Pierre part of her family. While Jean-Pierre was kind and fair to her, never raising his voice, she knew how he treated Danielle. She always appeared to be blind to it, but she was not. She was very aware and simply could not understand why someone as kind hearted as Danielle would be subjected to such treatment.

She stood over Danielle now, watching her as she sewed almost frantically, yet every few stitches, looking up at the clock. Danielle had told her everything, about the cocktail party, the inauguration, the deception, and especially about the mysterious man in the white mask named Erik Renault.

"Why do you not take a break to get something to eat? I can work on the gown for a few minutes." She supportively touched Danielle's shoulder.

Danielle looked up at Evelyne and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you. I could use a bowl of leftover stew and bread. Would you like anything?" she asked her.

"Yes, I would love some st…."

"Danielle!" Jean-Pierre's voice boomed throughout the shop. Both women jumped. "Danielle, get out here, now!"

Placing the dress on the table, Danielle threw a glance at Evelyne and ran out of the back into the shop.

"Yes, Father?" she said before he could raise his voice again.

Jean-Pierre was there behind the counter. In front of the counter stood a man wearing a hat pulled slightly down over his face, he wore a messenger's uniform.

"You have a message." Jean-Pierre told her, rather huffed.

She walked over to the counter and the messenger handed her the slip of paper.

Opening it, she began to read silently, making her father lose even more patience. "Read it out loud, girl…I swear, sometimes you do not have any sense."

Stammering, Danielle began reading again.

_Michelle has gone into early labor._

_Please come to her immediately._

_Will be waiting for your arrival._

_Madame Souvigny._

Danielle gasped, "Oh no! It is too soon, the baby will be at risk."

Jean-Pierre grumbled, "Let it be. Fitting for all the trouble she has caused."

"Father!" she raised her voice, not really meaning to, but truly, that was a heartless thing to say about an unborn child.

He snorted and turned away.

She looked his way and finally caught sight of the messenger. He raised his hat and bowed slightly, making Danielle gasp again.

_Monsieur Bernard…. _

He winked and she sighed. She knew Michelle was alright.

"Please Father, Madame Souvigny is waiting for me." She played along.

"I can handle the workload, Monsieur Durand." Evelyne spoke up as she walked from the back and put her hand on Jean-Pierre's shoulder. "Is not the health of your niece more important right now?"

He glared at Danielle, then back at Evelyne and addressed her only. "Fine. But she must be home no later than tomorrow morning, first light. No excuses, no broken carriage wheels….is that understood?"

Danielle sighed, "Thank you, Father."

"Do not thank me…thank Evelyne, for you will compensate her for working overtime."

Both women relaxed as Jean-Pierre threw a coin at the messenger and left the shop, the door slamming hard, making the bells ring.

Jules smiled as he turned to make sure Durand was away before turning back to Danielle. "Jacques is at the corner. I shall await you at the bottom of your fire escape." He spoke to her pleasantly.

Evelyne's mouth dropped, prompting Danielle to laugh. "This is Monsieur Bernard, Erik's assistant, Monsieur, this is Madame Evelyne Piret.

Jules bowed, "Madame." Then looked at Danielle again, "Pack all that you cherish, Mademoiselle, Monsieur Erik does not intend to have you return here."

And with that, he left the shop, letting his words sink in.

_I shall not return?_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Another short and sweet chapter. Don't worry, this will start working out when they get to the party. **

**Again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews! It appears everyone has strong opinions about the story. As I said before, I already know how it will play out, as I am about a chapter or so ahead of what i'm posting. So I can tell you this...the next chapter will be longer. Thanks again! Melissa**


	10. Chapter 10

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage:

**(Note: This chapter rated T/M, please be advised before reading further.)**

* * *

Chapter Ten: 

She looked over at Evelyne and gave her an almost helpless shrug.

"I suppose you should start packing a bag then." Evelyne told her.

Danielle embraced her warmly, "But, not return? What about the shop, the orders….what about Father?"

"Do not concern yourself with that," she held her close, patting her long hair, "I will finish the orders, I shall even bring in Nathalie to help me."

_Nathalie_….Danielle had almost forgotten that Evelyne's eldest daughter was almost fourteen, just the same age she had been when she began working in the shop.

A long breath seeped from her lips, her eyes rolling back as she grinned. One obstacle taken care of, "That will be wonderful, please just be sure she is paid something."

Evelyne smiled, "I will compensate her."

But the worst was yet to come, "And Father?"

"He will be angry, very angry of course, but perhaps you should send word to Michelle, to be aware he might go there looking for you."

She gasped, "Michelle….oh yes, he would certainly go to look for me at her home, then he would harass her terribly."

"You know as well as I do that she is rather sensible and can tell your father that you had left the day before and she does not know where you are. Actually, it would not be too far from the truth, if you do not disclose your whereabouts to her."

"Umm…I suppose. Yes, before we leave Paris, I will ask Monsieur Bernard to send a message to her." Danielle pulled away and looked at the tears falling from Evelyne's dark brown eyes. "I shall pack now. But I promise, soon, I will return to check on you, a few days at least, perhaps by then Father will have calmed down."

Evelyne shook her head, knowing it would take much longer than a few days for Jean-Pierre to calm down.

Danielle turned and headed up the stairwell to the apartment. Yes, she would return, of that she was certain. Erik had agreed to twelve thousand francs to be given to her after the inauguration, almost five thousand francs more than what the shop owed in back rent and other expenses. More than enough to hire another seamstress, at least part time and pay her until the shop turned a profit, and also keep Nathalie, if she so desired, paying her a part time wage for weekend work.

As she entered the apartment and ran for her bedroom, she heard Jean-Pierre behind the door of his room among the sounds of papers shuffling and his grumbling about expense books. She slowed her pace, removed her shoes and was careful to walk cautiously past his door. Once she reached her room, she closed it softly, then began to pack.

* * *

Emma stood in the foyer and watched Erik pace around like a caged animal on the front steps of his home. In her arms, she carried Danielle's gown, newly arrived from Madame Boudreaut's dress shop. She also carried a fresh supply of towels, new bath soaps and three bottles of perfume, all purchased by Erik earlier in the day after he had sent Jules on his mission. She sighed, feeling compassion for his longing, but gave a slight smile as she walked up to the Rose Room, on the second floor, to make the room ready for Danielle to take up residence.

As the carriage began down the long, cobblestone drive towards the house, Danielle could see Erik from her window as he stood in wait. She gasped in delight at his tall form, the white mask gleaming in the bright sunlight. She was much happier to be back with him than she had first thought.

The carriage stopped and Erik did not wait for Jules to exit first before throwing the door open and holding out his hand to Danielle.

"Mademoiselle, it is wonderful to see you again." He said politely, with controlled excitement. No need for everyone to see his elation so soon, he mused.

She took his hand and exited, "Thank you, Monsieur, I am glad to be here once again."

Jules stepped out behind her and stood smiling, first at Erik, then up to Jacques, who gave a silent chuckle. Both men watched as Erik took Danielle's hand and led her into the house.

"Pleasant day, is it not?" he asked her once they were in the foyer.

"A lovely day, I hear there will be no rain for tonight's party."

"Yes, a thankful blessing as this is usually the time for spring rains to fall." He replied, walking her into the library.

He shut the door tight, locking it before turning back to Danielle.

She could only smile and give a small laugh. Actually, it was all she had time for before Erik took her in his arms.

"I have missed you." He whispered as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair.

With her arms securely around his neck, her hands clutching at his hair, she could only reply softly, "I have missed you too."

He pulled away and cupped her face with his hands, examining her closely. At first he did not see any lingering mark of her father's assault, but on closer inspection, he spotted a small cut in the corner of her mouth. He chose not to speak about it just yet and instead, feasted upon her lovely face and intoxicating eyes.

"Did you have any trouble getting away from your father?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I packed up and left through the fire escape. Evelyne covered for me. I dare say that it was a clever ruse, for he suspected nothing."

"That is good to hear. Then you do not mind that I brought you here so soon?"

Her mouth curled in a slight smirk. That was indeed a silly question.

"No, I do not mind, although I have some questions."

He walked her over to the couch and together they sat down. "Please ask…I expected you would be curious."

She looked deep into his eyes, "Why did you bring me here so soon?"

He knew that would probably be the first question she would ask him, but still, it had not prepared him for the answer. His mind fought the debate….tell her that he had sent Jules to spy on her, tell her it was simply because he wished to see her again before the party, or make up something entirely new…..

Yet, he had always promised he would never deceive her.

And he was not going to start now.

"Erik?" she touched his hand.

"My apologies. I was not sure how to give my answer, in a way that you would understand, and not feel….uncomfortable."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, "Uncomfortable?"

"Yes. You see, Danielle…." He placed his hand over hers, "Jules bore witness to what happened to you this morning, with your Father." With his other hand, he caressed her cheek, his thumb stroking the dried blood of her small cut.

Immediately, she gasped, her hand flying over his.

"Yes, I noticed it." He told her.

She looked down, taking a moment to gather herself before replying, "And why was Monsieur Bernard there?"

"I had initially asked him to follow you home last evening, to make sure that the plan I had set up would work and you would not be in danger from your father. Once Jacques had left, he observed you both through your shop window. When it appeared he was not outwardly angry, he left. He reported to me very early this morning."

"I see." She looked away, unsure what to think. "That explains last evening, but not this morning."

"Yes, once Jules gave me his report, I sent him back to observe you this morning. He arrived in time to see you take a delivery in the shop and then he followed you as you went up to your apartment."

"So he saw that, and the fight? How did he get inside?"

"He watched it as he stood on your fire escape."

She gave a gentle laugh, "Oh, of course," before turning serious, her brows furrowing, "Why did you have Jules watch me the second time?"

Erik stood and walked over to his desk, tapping his fingers nervously on the wood. "I do not know exactly, but I can only offer this explanation. For years, I roamed the Opera House. I knew everything that went on, from the managers, down to the women who did the laundry, nothing escaped my knowledge. When Christine came into my life…she was a young child….I watched her, protected her, kept her safe. I knew everything she did, her friends, her rehearsals, when she slept, what she ate…." He paused and turned to her. "Danielle, I suppose, in a way, I simply wanted to know these things about you. I apologize if that offends you in anyway, I truly do."

"Then why not come to me and see for yourself?"

He smirked. "Dearest Danielle, can you not see why that would be an impossibility?"

"I can imagine that if you had seen my father angry, that would anger you…"

"….that is only part of it." He interrupted her. When she did not answer, he continued, "If I had seen you…alone….especially if you were in a state of…shall we say, undress….I know that my body would not have held out, I would have succumbed to most overwhelming urges." He stopped before he said anything more, seeing her expression change.

Her face softened as she met his gaze, yet she did not blush. How honest he was! For that, she was grateful. "Perhaps a wise decision."

"So now, do you understand why I sent Jules in my stead?"

"I can understand your reasons, yes. In fact, there are things about you that I wish to know. Things that I was not sure I would be able to ask."

He walked quickly back to the couch and sat down, "Please, ask me anything."

She took a deep breath, knowing how hard it would be to make such a request. He had spoke of many things the night before besides Persia and Russia…bits of his childhood when he lived in Boscherville, although she was sure that he did not tell her everything, and of his time in Italy with a kind man named Giovanni. Yet, for all of that, she wanted to know the one thing she had been curious about since she met him. His mask.

"Lacie told me the story surrounding your mask, why you wear it."

"And she described what was beneath it." He said softly.

"Yes she did."

"But, you are still curious."

She nodded.

He sighed deeply, his hand grasping a pillow close to him.

"I do not have to, Erik, if you…."

"Ask me, Danielle. If you ask, I will not deny you."

She whispered, "Erik, would you remove your mask for me?"

Her request was kind and to the point, nevertheless his mind was still apprehensive. Up until this point, he'd hidden behind the safety of his mask, hoping she would never ask to see beyond it. Hoping he would never have to face it himself.

He remembered Christine's first reaction to his face. Her mouth gaping widely, her eyes as big as saucers, her frail body shaking, tears down her cheeks. It was almost too much for him to bear.

But this was not Christine. Danielle had not ripped it from him, she had asked and he had observed her compassionate eyes. Yes, she would understand if he backed out now.

Yet, at this point, he would not, _could not_ deny her anything.

He nodded, then took her hands and placed them on either side of his mask, "Perhaps, you would prefer to do it yourself?"

With a warm smile, she nodded, but waited for him to gather himself before proceeding. "Whenever you are ready."

He nodded and closed his eyes.

Slowly she removed his mask and immediately became grateful that he had closed his eyes, for she would have been most upset for him to view her first reaction. It _was_ as bad as Lacie had described, in fact, it was a bit worse than she had imagined. She could understand why he kept it covered. Yet, for as bad as it was, it didn't change the way she felt about him. It was merely skin, an outer shell. Inside one's heart and mind…that was what counted, an important lesson her mother taught her early…. And that was the Erik she was feeling from deep inside, the intelligent, strong willed, handsome, passionate man she had come to know over the past couple of days.

After hearing no outward audible gasp or scream, Erik opened his eyes and could see the slight distress in Danielle's eyes as she studied him. He inhaled sharply as he felt her fingers on his bad cheek.

"Oh, I am sorry!" she exclaimed, pulling her hand away. "Does it cause you pain?"

Emphatically, he shook his head, "No no, you misunderstood. It does not hurt, it is just that….well…it does not get touched often by anyone but myself."

"Even Emma?"

"No. Although she truly wishes to mother me on occasion. I simply prefer to tend to it myself."

She giggled in relief, picturing Emma trying to corner Erik in his bedchamber to do something motherly like take his temperature or clean behind his ears.

He took her hand and replaced it upon his cheek, his face turning serious. "You may touch it all you wish."

Her fingers examined each inch of disfigured flesh, trailing over lines, curves, indentations, feeling the contrast of rough and smooth, hot and cold, rigid and soft. Her gaze became intense, so intense that she hardly noticed that he was drawing her closer, closer to his waiting lips…until she felt them on her cheek.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. What a wonderful sensation of his soft lips against her cheek and his cheek against _her_ lips. She kissed his cheek, showing no disgust, no reservation. She knew, if his cheek had hardly been touched, then it certainly had not been kissed much, if at all. She wanted to ask if Christine had done such a thing, she had to know; she had to know if she was the first.

"Tell me no one has kissed your cheek like this." She whispered against his skin, the soft breeze from her mouth making him shiver.

Erik thought of his mistresses. Three of them there were currently, none of them _ever_ seeing his face. None of them _ever_ requested. He knew from this day forward, he would never see those women again, much less take another. No matter what happened with Danielle….no one would compare to her, nothing could possibly compare to _this_.

"No one has, Danielle." He whispered. His hand found her hip and slowly slid it downward, feeling the curve of her body and stopping at the middle of her thigh, gripping and kneading her firm flesh.

A moan seeped from her lips and before she could put another thought together, her mouth pressed against his in a deep, intoxicating kiss. Erik lifted her leg up, pulling her closer to his body and throwing her leg around his waist. She could feel him pressing himself upward against her and she panted in between kisses, her legs tightening around him, her fingers twining his dark hair.

"Danielle…" he whispered against her lips. He did not need to speak another word, she knew what he felt and she shared it.

Undeniable passion.

A knock came to the door and with it, a loud, frustrated groan from Erik as he pulled away from Danielle's lips. He waited, not speaking, eyes half closed, surely whoever it was would give up and go away.

But it was Emma and she would not go away. She'd seen Danielle arrive and knew she was alone with Erik in the library….and most importantly, she knew what they were probably doing. She had to get Danielle out of there and begin her preparations for the party.

She knocked again, this time with a bit more force.

"It is Emma, I am sure of it." Erik whispered, his body screaming as he continued to hold Danielle close. He throbbed against her, still raining small kisses down her neck.

Her head fell back and crooked to the side to give him every inch of skin she had, her eyes closing shut hard, her breathing increasing.

A third knock. No, Emma was not going to go away.

"Ignore her." Danielle almost pleaded. If anything, Emma was certainly tenacious.

"I do not think she will not go away. I am sure she is trying to get you away from me."

She moaned in response, "Why on earth would she…?"

"She is doing what any woman who has a maternal instinct would do, trying to keep you….from being corrupted…" he nuzzled her neck, as his fingers unclipped her long hair, letting it fall down over her shoulders, "…from falling for my…charms."

That did it, she became completely undone, "Erik…" her voice squeaked out, it was the best she could do.

Again their lips met, even as the pounding of the door appeared to get louder and louder, more anxious with each passing minute. Moving his body slightly, he leaned forward and laid Danielle down on the couch, his body moving over hers. With his long legs, he moved her legs slowly apart and settled between them. The tension almost unbearable, he moved against her and in response, she moved her hips upward to meet him, all the while, their mouths still tasting, teasing, tongues darting in and out, sliding along and against one another.

Emma had been knocking for a good five minutes and it was getting most frustrating. This time, she finally spoke with her knock, "Monsieur! I know you and Mademoiselle Danielle are inside, please open the door, it is becoming late and she needs to prepare for the party!" She called out.

Despite the intensity of his passion, his sensible side took over. He looked at the clock.

Four o'clock.

Yes, they still had much to do.

Sighing, he looked down at Danielle, who….it appeared….had also had a sensible awakening.

"She is right, you know, I must prepare." She said, her voice still hoarse with desire. She had come so close, so close to giving in to her temptations.

She did not know whether to thank Emma….or to slap her.

Erik rose carefully, oh so carefully with a groan. That made Danielle laugh despite the situation. She sat up to get her bearings, then rose to her feet and straightened her dress, then her hair.

Her cheeks were red and very warm. That, she could not easily hide.

"Go…I will need to be alone for a few minutes." She heard his husky voice behind her, his fingers trailing up her dress, grazing the back of her knee.

She shuddered under his touch, "If you do that, I shall _not_ leave." She informed him sternly.

He stopped and her body screamed for more.

She chose not to look at him as she headed to the library door. A prudent choice, for if she saw his eyes, she would lose all remaining self control.

Erik replaced his mask as he watched Danielle exit the library.

It took him _more_ than a few minutes before he could leave himself.

* * *

A quarter after six and Erik was pacing in the foyer. Again.

He was ready, had been for a half hour and all that was left was for Danielle to emerge from the Rose Room. He had tried to do work in the library, but quickly found that futile. It was not the time that bothered him, they were still on schedule, it was the anticipation. The waiting. The wanting.

He heard the door open and two women talking softly. He stiffened and straightened his dark suit.

"The dress fits you perfectly, Mademoiselle…" he heard Emma say.

"It is the most extraordinary gown I have ever seen. I do not have such talent for creating gowns such as these; they are truly works of art." He heard her reply, their voices coming closer.

Then he saw her. Gasping, he slowly took in the sight of her in the deep peach colored gown, adorned with white ribbons and lace imported from Bruges all around the back. The bodice was simple and hugged her waist, giving her a very feminine shape. It fell just off the shoulders and was also trimmed in delicate Bruges lace.

Her hair was pinned up in soft ringlets, with only a few strands falling at the back and around her face. Woven in the ringlets were pieces of peach ribbon that hung down behind her and tiny flowers that were nestled inside.

"It is only a work of art when you wear it." He breathlessly managed to say to her when he composed himself.

She stopped and her eyes cast upon him. His dark suit was so perfectly tailored to fit his tall frame that he towered seemingly like a statue in the foyer. He wore a dark red silk vest and a perfectly pressed white shirt and black silk cravat. He was not wearing a jacket and did not turn her gaze away to look for one, but envisioned that it was also probably black, very smartly tailored as the pants.

And of course, the cape. Her mind could visualize him in it, as it flowed around him and billowed out as he walked with long strides, the night sky at his back...

She shook her head in wonder. He was truly breathtaking. "You look so handsome, Erik. You will make quite an impact."

_That is an understatement, silly girl…_

"With you on my arm, I know I shall." He paused to put the right words together before speaking again. He did not want to mess this up. "Danielle, you are truly...a lady."

Then he bowed before her as he took her hand and kissed it.

_A lady_…She gasped, then blushed, feeling like a princess before a ball.

"I…I do not know how to respond to that…other than, thank you."

"You do not have to say anything, but please, come with me." He began to lead her toward the music room.

"Where are you….?"

"Your ensemble is not complete." He simply told her.

She looked back at Emma with a shrug.

Emma simply smiled.

Erik entered the music room and shut the door after Danielle. Then he turned to her, taking both hands in his. "I wished to make sure that you were truly ready to do this."

"Yes, I am ready." She said with no reservation.

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, I believe we have covered all the guests, what we will be eating for dinner…and of course, your warning about Monsieur Mancia." She snickered playfully. Monsieur Mancia was certainly going to be an interesting character.

"Very well. I wish you to know that Emma has been instructed to place an envelope on your bed, it contains your money. You will have it when we return home."

"But you said…."

"Yes, I know what I said, but I also….well…Danielle…Jules also accessed your books."

Her hand flew to her mouth. She wanted to know how, and why, but for the moment, she knew… he knew just how bad it was.

"You know then?"

He nodded. "Yes, I had no idea just how bad things were for you. You do not need to wait an additional three weeks for your money. Take it tomorrow and pay off your debts, Jules will accompany you and help you invest the rest back into your shop."

She could only smile. Then she shook her head, "I…"

"No. No talk of this tonight. Besides, as I said, your ensemble is incomplete."

"Incomplete?"

From his pocket, he produced a small velvet box. "I think there is something here that might improve the situation.

She observed it closely, "What is it?"

He opened the box to reveal a ring. The most beautiful, emerald cut, solitaire diamond ring she had ever laid eyes on. And probably the largest.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"I asked my old friend, Louis Chopard, to make this especially for you. He made my gold pocket watch and his work is exquisite. I wanted something beautiful, but not too overstated. Your hands are delicate and a larger ring would overwhelm it, so I felt that four carats would be perfect."

_Overwhelm it?_ She could not help but laugh to herself at that one.

He removed the ring from the box and took her left hand. "I, Erik Renault, take you, Danielle Durand, for my fake wife…." He chuckled slightly, his eyes glistening almost childlike in his humor, "in sickness and in health….in richer and _much_ richer…"

They both laughed at that one.

"…forsaking all others, until the inauguration do us part."

As Danielle smiled brightly, he slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit. She expected nothing less.

"It is amazing, Erik, thank you. I promise I shall not damage it or anything."

"You can do anything you wish with it, it is yours."

She almost choked. Hers? That, she had not expected, especially considering Monsieur Chopard was only known for designing elegant pocket watches, not rings. Surely he would wish to keep it.

"I thought….I mean, it is not necessary…"

Erik smiled down at her and spoke firmly and with finality. "No, it is yours."

She knew not to question further.

He took her hand and placed it on his arm. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. She was as ready as she could ever be.

* * *

**A/N: Again, thanks for all who have reviewed my story! There are a couple of you that I will be replying to privately, life gets in the way sometimes and I don't have enough hours in the day, but I will.**

**Sadly, Roxanne has moved from co-author to beta and advisor, yet she is still very involved although now the writing is all me. I will still list her as co-author though. We enjoyed doing the IM writing thing, but when she went back to work after her vacation, unfortunately, she just couldn't find the time to continue, so we decided I should move on without her and she would beta. She's a great beta! Not to mention a great friend! So, thanks again and enjoy, Melissa ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Eleven:

Madame Dupré's home sat on boulevard Haussman, just off the avenue des Champs Elysées in the huitième arrondissement, one of the most exclusive and luxurious parts of Paris. Danielle had never even dared enter this part of the city in the eight years since she last accompanied Richard and she now remembered why. She suddenly felt a wave of panic wash over her as the carriage passed inside the gates of the estate, waiting just behind a small trail of carriages carrying additional guests. Her hands shook, her mind became full of doubt.

She did not belong here; she knew that much if nothing else.

And what if Richard Dupré _was_ there? Jules had assured her that Richard was not on the guest list, but was he not Madame Dupré's son? Surely, he would not need to be on the guest list to attend.

And what of Madame Dupré herself? Would she recognize her even after so many years? She had changed a bit over that time. She was much thinner, probably from years of nervous tension around her father. That had to be the reason, considering she was sure that in the past three days of eating the fine meals Emma put before her, she had to be putting on a bit of weigh. She knew she was much paler, for she hardly went outside anymore. But tonight, on Emma's suggestion, she was wearing just a hint of rouge to, as she put it, 'accentuate your already rosy cheeks'. She had loved hearing that, something her own mother had often told her. She had rosy cheeks too.

She thought of her mother again. She could see her clear as glass, sitting in her favorite rocking chair by the window, embroidering a dress, smocking an apron…always with a smile, a pleasant word. Many times she would sit with her and together they would sing, songs she'd learned as a child and was happy to pass along to her only child...

But that was so long ago…_Oh, Mother_….

How she wished she was there to see her in her beautiful gown, to have helped her with her hair, chatting about anything and everything.

Though, she adored Emma. She had chatted with her, telling her all about Erik and how she had come to be in his employment. Told her about finding Lacie. Told her about how it was no longer a secret that Lacie was enamored with Jacques, something Danielle had seen early on but kept silent. They had laughed, and they had also been open and honest. She'd confided about her mother, her father, her closeness with Evelyne and Michelle. Yes, she had found a true kinship with Emma and knew Emma had developed a definite maternal bond, she would be friends with Emma, very good friends, but she missed her mother. It simply was not the same.

Erik leaned forward and touched her hand, noting the distance in her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I suppose I am just…."

"Nervous?"

She chose not to go further into the subject, so she just smiled slightly, "Yes."

"It is not too late to back out, I can still go in alone." He assured her, although in his mind, he was praying she would stay. He truly did _not_ want to face the party alone.

Danielle knew this, of course, and shook her head, "I will be fine. Do not worry about me."

"You remember the story to tell people about how we met?"

"Yes, I do. I like how you included your mother's friend Marie in the story. She seems like a very kind lady."

"Yes, very kind. She did what my mother never did. Gave me love and understanding, even when she was fearful of me."

"I would love to hear more about her… and your childhood…Boscherville sounds like a lovely place." She said wistfully.

"In time, I will tell you these things, then perhaps…I shall take you there one day, show you the church and my old home." He was cautious not to push anything with her, considering he had not planned anything further after taking her into his home.

The carriage pulled to a stop as she said, "I would love that."

He kissed her fingers as he looked at the ring on her finger, "Then it shall be done."

Their carriage was the last in line. Erik had of course planned it that way, as he wished to make a grand entrance, having Monsieur Mancia there to announce him. If anything other than Danielle on his arm was to be the highlight of his evening, it would be seeing everyone's shocked faces as they found out the Opera Ghost was their majority shareholder.

* * *

"So, how do you feel being back in Paris after a year, Vicomtess?" Madame Dupré asked Christine as they strolled along the terrace. Slowly, more and more people were arriving, yet she chose to have the servants show them inside first. She was much more interested in getting to know the former Christine Daaé, the famed soprano. 

Christine sipped on her glass of wine as she admired the flowers that lined the stone terrace. "I am very pleased to be back, Madame Dupré. Most of my years were spent here and I found that I miss it more than I realized."

"Do you plan on staying indefinitely?"

"No, just until after the inauguration and opera in three weeks, then Raoul and I shall return to our home."

"I see." She looked inside and observed the young Vicomte as he laughed and spoke with the other guests.

Christine looked as well, noting how he took particular attention to one Mademoiselle Dupré, Madame Dupré's youngest daughter, a scant few months short of her nineteenth birthday. She inhaled, took a healthy swallow of her wine, and continued to walk.

"Madame?" A voice called from the terrace's entrance.

"Yes, Lydia?" Madame Dupré turned sharply to her maid.

"All the guests have arrived and been announced, except for the majority shareholder, the mystery man that Monsieur Mancia promised. He is awaiting you before making the official introduction."

"Of course, I shall be in shortly." She replied, then huffed a bit as she turned to Christine. Their chat would have to wait, duty called.

"Come, dear Vicomtess, let us meet the mystery guest.

* * *

Erik and Danielle stood alone in the small parlor, out of the way of everyone until the formal announcement. Danielle looked around the room, musing to herself that it was still as small, pretentious and stuffy as when she had first sat alone there with Richard. She wondered if anyone even bothered to come in here except to dust, as it appeared that nothing had changed, or had even been moved. 

Meanwhile, Monsieur Mancia looked over Danielle closely, shocked. "I still cannot believe you are married," he grumbled at Erik, "why didn't you tell me you had been married for nearly _six_ months? I had been to your home at least three times and…."

"Considering how you treated my female servants, I found it best not to introduce you to my wife." Erik sneered back. "Besides, the first time you visited, she was visiting her aunt in Boscherville."

"And what about the second time?"

He pretended to think pensively, "If I recall, she was in town, shopping."

"And the last?"

"Emma was instructed to keep her occupied in her sewing room, far from your roving eyes."

Monsieur Mancia laughed deeply as he looked hungrily at Danielle. "Umm…wise decision, for she is a rare peach."

Danielle lowered her brow as she took a step back closer to Erik, and he pulled her to him protectively.

She mused to herself how Erik had not lied when he warned her to not be in the same room alone with Monsieur Mancia, for she now understood why.

Erik stiffened and said coldly, "I would be careful if I were you, Monsieur Mancia, I have killed men for less than what you are doing this very minute."

Snorting, Mancia turned and continued to pace.

Only then did Danielle relax.

But Erik did not.

Within minutes, Lydia opened the door and gestured for Mancia to follow her to the grand ballroom. He looked back at Erik and with a dirty toothed grin, declared, "It is time."

* * *

Mancia entered the grand ballroom and shut the doors behind him. He walked to the small podium that Madame Dupré had prepared for him and stood on it, looking out over the guests. He observed the large crowd of over one hundred, scrutinizing….everyone was there that was involved in the opera house….all five shareholders and three investors, both Monsieurs Firmin and André and, standing in the back next to Madame Dupré, the Vicomte and Vicomtess Raoul and Christine de Chagny. 

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he called out and waited for everyone to turn to him.

When they did, he spoke again, "It is my privilege to announce to you the mystery man who has succeeded in bringing a profit to the Opera House, even in the midst of reconstruction. A man of true vision, a man whom, with his intelligent architectural insight, has sped up that reconstruction, allowing us to open a full two months ahead of schedule…."

The guests applauded softly, appreciatively.

"…..and four hundred thousand francs under budget."

The guests laughed, then applauded once more.

"So, without further delay, I present to you our majority shareholder and principal investor, Monsieur Erik Renault!"

With a sweeping gesture of his hand, the door opened and Erik, with Danielle on his arm, stepped inside the room to the sound of almost thunderous applause.

Until, they saw the mask.

Like a wave, an almost eerie silence fell.

The recognition dawned on everyone.

Small gasps rose and chatter could be heard amongst the stunned guests…..

_It's the Opera Ghost…It's the Phantom…Murderer….Angel of Hell…_

Erik only smirked in silent satisfaction.

The guests turned immediately to Christine, who was standing awestruck, her mouth wide open as Raoul's face flushed with anger and shock, his fists clenching. They had both been sure that Erik had died in the Opera House fire. Seeing him tonight was the last thing they ever expected.

Erik didn't notice Christine at first, turning to Danielle instead and giving her a soft smile, mouthing to her, "Are you alright?"

She returned the gesture and nodded.

"And by Monsieur Renault's side this evening, is his wife, Madame Da…" Mancia stammered, remembering Erik had strictly given order _not_ to use her first name. Danielle's heart skipped a beat as he corrected himself, "Madame Renault."

Another hush, followed by a second round of whispering chatter rose as they all looked to Christine, anxious at her reaction.

The word _wife_ slammed into Christine's heart like a rushing wave. Wife? She looked up at Raoul who said to her, "When did he marry?" Obviously a rhetorical question for they both knew the other didn't have the answer. She shrugged helplessly as Madame Dupré left their side to address Erik and Danielle, and to break up the tension that had grown thick as fog.

"Welcome to my home, Monsieur and Madame Renault….I am honored to have you in my home." She approached and offered her hand to Danielle.

"Madame Renault, what a lovely gown…who is your seamstress?" she asked, hardly looking at her face, to Danielle's relief. But, she had yet to speak, that was the next hurdle. She inhaled softly and threw caution to the wind.

"Why, Madame Boudreaut, of course." She answered simply, yet elegantly, but with a touch of stuffiness.

"Ah yes…she does the most remarkable gowns, I should have recognized her work. It is lovely to have you here tonight, my dear." Madame Dupré answered and Danielle took a breath. It appeared she had not been recognized, at least so far.

"Thank you, I am happy to be here in your lovely home."

_Oh yes…the same Madame Dupré…._

_Compliment, compliment, compliment…she eats it like candy…_

That brought a delighted giggle to Madame Dupré's lips as she turned toward Erik. He took her hand and kissed it. "Madame Dupré, so nice to meet you."

"So lovely to meet you, Monsieur Renault, please…mingle and meet my guests."

With a grand flourish, she turned and left Erik and Danielle alone.

Holding tight to Danielle's hand, he asked her, "Are you ready to face everyone?"

"Yes." She told him.

Then she saw her.

Christine de Chagny, she was sure of it from Erik's detailed description. She stared at her as she made her way hurriedly through the crowd…right in their direction. Her dark brown hair was pinned back tightly, her face…her young face, Danielle noted….was slightly pale, her lips ruby red, encasing her shocked, gaping mouth.

Erik noted Danielle's expression change, and in following her eyes saw Christine coming towards them.

She was alone.

His eyes widened in shock, his heart leapt into his throat, threatening to deprive him of his very will to breathe. How she had changed! He could hardly believe how, in one year's time, her face, as well as her body, had matured. She had grown into a woman, in every way. He could hardly wait to touch her, speak to her, be in her presence once more.

As Christine came closer, she could see Erik's expression change from cool satisfaction to elation. She smiled, then let the smile fade just as fast, knowing she did not want Raoul to see her react this way. But truly, she was happy that Erik had not died. Unbeknownst to Raoul, and everyone else, she had not forgotten him. Many nights she recalled their last meeting in the dark cellars of the opera house. How much he'd loved her, yet she still left with Raoul. She had broken his heart, his spirit and she was having trouble dealing with the guilt. But seeing him again, successful, seemingly happy…

…and having a wife? That truly bothered her.

When she reached him, they both stood silent, staring.

It was Danielle that broke the silence first, "Vicomtess, it is lovely to meet you, I have heard so much about you."

Christine bowed slightly but never moved her gaze from Erik, "From Erik?" she answered.

Danielle coughed, "Umm…no, he has never mentioned _you_, I am afraid. I was referring to the Époque. It spoke of your return and the coming Opera, La Prophète."

Christine glared right at Danielle, lowering her brow, "Oh, I see."

Danielle felt catty and petty, but could also feel herself laughing inside, amazed at her own behavior. Was she actually… _jealous_?

She saw Erik's face, his eyes glistening and she answered her own question…she _was_ jealous.

"It is good to see you again, Christine." Erik said before throwing a glare at Danielle. She blushed, but turned away to hide it. Why was he suddenly so upset at her comment? He was here, after all, to show her up, right?

"It is great to see you, Erik. I was afraid that you… umm..." she paused, not wishing to discuss anything of their past in front of his wife.

Erik could sense it and looked at Danielle. "Perhaps, you could excuse us for a few moments?"

Her eyes widened bigger than china plates. Leave? She had not anticipated that they would be separated. Her eyes pleaded with him, but his gaze focused back to Christine. His mind was made up, whether she agreed or not.

"Uh, yes of course….but…" she said.

Erik had taken Christine by the arm and led her away before Danielle could finish her sentence.

She was alone and she did not like that, not one bit.

And it became worse when she spotted Richard Dupré enter the room.

* * *

Richard Dupré was a very tall six feet seven inches tall, much taller than the majority of men that loomed around the ballroom at his mother's home that evening. He always felt he could tower over anyone and jokes were all around eight years ago when he married Mademoiselle Catherine, who, at a scant five foot three, barely reached above his chest. Yet, for the size difference, they were a happy couple, parents to two lovely daughters. 

He had not intended on arriving for the party, but after Madame Dupré informed him of the arrival of Christine de Chagny, Catherine, a former singer herself, had insisted upon meeting her. They had arrived earlier in the day from their home in Sarcelles, but had spent most of the day resting in the upstairs suite where their two daughters now slept being attended to by Madame Dupré's servants.

By this time a group of people had surrounded Danielle, at Madame Dupré's prompting, to offer her well wishes and congratulations, asking dozens of questions, most of which escaped her understanding. Her mind was on Erik….her eyes….on Richard.

He was now sporting a dark beard that encased his long face. His hair was speckled with a bit of premature gray, like in his late father's portrait that hung just overhead. She was convinced it was Richard. The woman by his side had to be Catherine, his wife. She could not help but smile, a bit relieved that he would be focused on his wife and not her.

_Perhaps_, she thought to herself, _just perhaps he might not notice me…_

But she was wrong.

As Richard chatted with a couple of business associates, his eyes scanned the room, looking for the Vicomtess de Chagny before Catherine became too antsy. Instead, he saw a woman on the other side of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of chatting women, fanning themselves against the warm night that blew through the open windows nearby. Something about her made his brows furrow in thought. He knew her; he was sure of it, but from where? With a wave of his hand, he summoned his mother.

"Mother?" he gestured towards Danielle, "Who is that woman?"

Madame Dupré squinted her eyes to see who her son was pointing at. "Who? There are several women there."

"The one in the dark peach colored gown."

"Ah, yes! That is Madame Renault, the wife of Monsieur Erik Renault."

Richard looked deeply at his mother. "Erik Renault? You do not mean _the_ infamous Opera Ghost?"

"Why, yes my son, you know of him?"

"Everyone has heard of the Phantom, Mother. But, what is he doing _here_?" his eyes scanned the room for any sign of a man in a mask.

"You missed the excitement earlier, Richard," she giggled in gossipy excitement, "Monsieur Renault is the principal investor and majority shareholder of the opera house now….has been for quite some time, I hear. He was announced officially tonight by Monsieur Mancia."

"Umm…I would be most interested in meeting this man. Where is he?"

"He has taken the Vicomtess to the terrace, they are talking."

Richard grinned softly and turned his eyes back to Danielle. "Then perhaps, I shall take the time to welcome his wife instead."

* * *

"So, please, tell us, how did you meet Monsieur Renault? At the Opera House?" Madame Guérin prompted, fanning herself and grinning broadly. 

Danielle noted that her grin only served to push her wrinkles further up her face and it made her smile before she replied, "We met in Boscherville. My Aunt Marie and his mother were very close friends, so we knew each other as children."

"I see. You kept in touch all of these years?" Another woman, the name Danielle could not immediately recall, asked.

"Oh no. We saw each other again ten months ago, when he came to visit Boscherville. I was living with my aunt, caring for her, you see, and when he called on her one day, I was there. We began talking and…." She shrugged sweetly and the women all sighed at how lovely the story was.

"And how long have the two of you been married?" Madame Labordeaux asked.

"For six months. We were married at St-George church in Boscherville."

"How lovely."

"Yes. How lovely." A man's voice spoke behind the women. Danielle recognized it immediately.

_Richard…_

The women looked up at him and parted to let him through.

All the color drained from Danielle's cheeks.

"Perhaps you could make the formal introduction?" he addressed Madame Guérin, but kept his eyes on Danielle.

"Of course!" she replied excitedly. "Monsieur Richard Dupré…may I introduce to you, Madame Renault, the wife of Monsieur Erik Renault."

He took Danielle's hand and kissed it softly, "A pleasure to meet you, Madame Renault, welcome to my family home."

She was rendered speechless, trying to read his eyes. Did he know her and was just pretending, or was he clueless?

_Get yourself together….take your time, you can do this….._

"It is lovely to meet you, Monsieur Dupré, I am honored to be here." She replied, then held her breath.

"Thank you. And, where is your husband, so that I may formally welcome him?"

She let out her breath, "He is on the terrace, speaking with the Vicomtess." She replied, then noted the women's faces and realized she had actually spat out the words with a bit of jealous venom.

Dear God, what was happening to her?

"I see. A foolish thing to do, leaving his lovely wife alone to speak to another. If it is alright with you, I shall go to the terrace and speak to him."

"Of course, I do not mind."

Of course she didn't mind. Maybe it would make Erik wake up and cause him to come back inside with her, where he belonged.

"Then I shall do just that. Perhaps the ladies here will show you around in the interim, allow you to meet everyone properly?"

The women smiled and nodded. Apparently, Richard Dupré's word was law and they followed it without question. He exuded power, a power that he did not have when his father was alive. She surmised it was because he was still head of the Dupré house, whether he lived in Paris or not.

She watched Richard leave as the other women started taking her around the room.

* * *

"So you never even left Paris?" Christine asked Erik after hearing his whole story. They had been outside just over an hour, strolling along the garden path, her hand on his arm. "I figured you would escape to….I don't know…back to Persia, or Italy." 

"Paris is my home, Christine. I simply could not leave it. If I had, I am sure I would have never been able to return. I let everyone believe I had died after the first report came out in The Époque about finding the charred mask. It seemed simpler that way, and I was right. I was able to get my life together without fear of being hunted by a blood-thirsty mob."

She smiled up at him. "Well I am glad that you did not die."

"I did not think you cared one way or the other." He stopped and faced her.

"Erik, I know that I…I left you for Raoul…but it didn't mean I cared nothing for you. But you must understand, you were…" she shrugged.

"I know. I was much different then. I had lost myself, become obsessed. I let my opera take over my whole life and destroyed my sense of reality and almost my very existence. I tried to force you to live a life away from light, from people…I had no right and you were just in leaving me. In many ways, it woke me up, I truly saw myself for what I was…a monster."

"You were just sad, lonely, Erik. Never a monster."

"I was in love."

She paused and studied him closely. "And now…you are successful…and….happy?"

"Yes." He answered simply. He could not tell her how empty he'd been without her, not now that she was married to the Vicomte. "I am happy."

"There you are, Christine, I was wondering where you had disappeared to." Raoul stood on the terrace and looked at them as they started back from the garden.

"Erik and I were just talking." She defended herself automatically.

Raoul held up his hand, "I know, darling." Then he turned to face Erik, "Monsieur Renault." He said with a slight bow.

"Vicomte." Erik replied with a slight respectful bow of his own. He turned and looked at Christine.

"We were out here for more than one hour, Raoul. Apparently you didn't look very hard." She peeked over his shoulder into the ballroom, spotting Mademoiselle Dupré looking around, she was sure she was looking for Raoul. "Been keeping busy, have you now?" she gestured toward the young lady.

Raoul snorted, "Please, let's not get into this here…now. I only wanted to tell you that Madame Dupré has been looking for you, they are serving hors d'oeuvres in the ballroom now."

"I shall be in shortly." She answered, rather snippy.

Raoul turned and returned to the ballroom, alone.

"Is everything alright?" Erik asked her when Raoul was a safe distance away.

"Oh yes. Simple marital spats that come up, I suppose." She blew it off. "Perhaps we should go inside now, there are some people I would love to introduce you to."

Smiling, Erik offered his arm to her again and they went inside.

* * *

Through the other open door, Danielle exited the ballroom onto the terrace, looking around for Erik to check on him and to warn him that Richard was there and was looking to speak with him. Luckily, too many people had taken Richard's attention over the past hour and he had not yet been able to get away long enough to seek him. 

Her eyes glanced over the whole garden, the light from the lit torches illuminating the flowers. No sign of him. She sighed.

More than an hour. Now he was gone. Where in the world had he disappeared to?

He had left her alone. She was feeling isolated, nervous, and most importantly, angry. It no longer appeared to her that Erik brought her here to show up Christine de Chagny, but to get her back! The more she thought about how much she had been used, the angrier she became. She thought back to the last three days. How easily she'd been able to let him get through her defenses, allowing herself to show her vulnerable side. What a fool she'd been! He only wished to make her socially acceptable enough to pass as his wife, so he could make Christine jealous! She fumed, her face scowling.

And it was about to become worse, for unbeknownst to her, Richard was standing behind her, watching closely.

"Hello again… Danielle."

* * *

**A/N: And again, as always, such amazing reviews, thank you all! So much left in store for Erik and Danielle, so hold on to your monitors!**


	12. Chapter 12

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Twelve: 

She froze where she stood, her eyes rolling back as they shut. He knew! But she was not going to give in so easily. She took a deep breath and turned to see Richard's now softened eyes. She had almost forgotten just how intoxicating they were, how they seemed to just pull her right in. It truly was one of the first things she had noticed about him when they first met that Spring day so long ago. She stiffened herself against those feelings, refusing to allow them to resurface. They were buried, had been buried since the night he told her father she was no long acceptable for a wife. And if she had any power in her soul, they would remain buried.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur?" her demeanor was purposely cold and distant.

He smiled warmly, "Come now, Danielle…"

"I am sure you have me mistaken for another."

"If I am, then please, correct me. No one spoke of your first name earlier; it appears that even my own mother does not know it." He told her confidently, making his way out to where she stood.

"I did not give my first name." she almost stammered.

"Then might I inquire it?"

"If you must, it is Michelle." She replied without thinking, then winced inwardly. Richard knew her cousin was named Michelle; he had met her during their courtship.

_Smart, Danielle, very smart…._

Richard did not flinch, satisfied that this was his Danielle, despite the bad attempt to give him her cousin's name. There was no mistaking her. A bit thinner, a bit paler, but the same eyes that made him fall so hard for her, the same lips that he tasted hundreds of times. He understood her reasoning at why she wished to be someone else. She was married to the Opera Ghost, now a respectable member of Paris society, but nonetheless still a murderer, money or no.

"I see, I am….not…mistaken, Danielle." He spoke smoothly and touched her arm. "Believe me, I understand everything. I shall not give away your secret."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him. "What secret is that?"

"That is nothing we should speak of now. It is good to see you again. You look lovely as always." His voice was calm and almost condescending. He certainly did not want her to go into any….hysterics….or anything like that.

She almost melted at his tone, yet she kept to her story. "Again, Monsieur, you have me mistaken with someone else. I am not this Danielle you speak of. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall join my husband." She began to leave but he kept hold of her arm.

"And where is your husband? I have been trying to find him for sometime now and he seems to have….disappeared, if you don't mind my saying so."

"He is in the ballroom, _I_ am sure."

He let go of her arm. "Please, do not let me keep you from him."

Swiftly, before Richard could change his mind, she went inside the ballroom. Her eyes scanned the room as she milled through the people. They all smiled pleasantly at her and she returned their kindness with nods and smiles of her own, asking if they had seen her husband. They all replied no.

Then she finally spotted him. He was in the corner of the ballroom, a glass of wine in his hand, laughing, his eyes focused solely on Christine, who had locked eyes with him. Chatting light-heartedly, it appeared they noticed nothing else in the whole room…

…including her.

She quickly made it out of the ballroom and back into the small parlor, where she sank down into a chair, her head in her hands.

_That is it…._

She made her decision. She was leaving. To hell with Erik, to hell with the Dupré's and to hell with the stupid inauguration! If he wished for someone on his arm that night, he would have to ask Christine de Chagny! She would return to take her money and never see Erik Renault again. She had done her part. It was now apparent he got what he wanted, he got his Christine back.

Yet, she could not help it, she wanted to cry. She cursed herself, almost hearing her father's voice now, chastising her for her utter stupidity….

_How could you fall for a man like that? How could you possibly expect he would want you? You stupid, stupid, foolish girl, when will you ever learn? You are damaged….nothing…._

"Madame, are you alright?" Lydia came in after seeing her leave the ballroom. "You seem a bit pale."

Danielle's head flew up in surprise. "Oh." Then she concocted a plan. "It is nothing really, just that I have a bit of a headache."

"May I bring you something?"

"No thank you. I simply wish to leave early. Could you have my carriage brought around?"

"Of course, Madame. Shall I inform your husband?"

"No!" she almost leapt off the chair, "I mean, he already knows. I told him to remain here, I know he was having a nice time."

"I shall have your carriage brought around, Madame." Lydia said before exiting.

Danielle smirked and wondered how long it would take before Erik noticed her absence.

* * *

Jacques was stunned when he was summoned to bring the carriage early and even more stunned when he saw only Danielle standing in wait. He brought the carriage to a stop and jumped down, throwing the door open for her. 

"Where is Monsieur Erik?"

"He is remaining at the party." She informed him flatly.

"Madame, you are leaving….alone? Surely, he would not allow…" He noted.

"I am not interested in what he will or will not allow. And it is _Mademoiselle_, you know that, Jacques." She said to him, her voice low.

"But Monsieur Erik said…"

"Forget what he said, I am _not_ Madame Renault." She spat at him, then climbed into the carriage and said to him before he shut the door, "Just take me to back to Erik's house and then wait for me while I gather my belongings, I wish to return to my own home tonight."

Jacques opened his mouth to question her, but decided it was much wiser….and safer to just nod and do as he was told.

* * *

Christine had excused herself briefly to speak to Raoul and Erik moved to the terrace to take in the fresh air. The ballroom was just too crowded for his taste. 

It was not long before Richard joined him, having waited quite a while to find him away from the presence of the charming Christine de Chagny.

"Monsieur Renault." He addressed him warmly.

Erik turned to him. "Good evening, uh, Monsieur…"

"I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, I was detained with other matters. I am Richard Dupré, Madame Dupré's son."

Erik almost choked. Richard Dupré? He had no idea he was attending the party. He offered his hand to Richard, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, having heard so much about your extraordinary accomplishments at the opera house. It is an honor to have you in my family home. I have already had the pleasure of meeting Madame Michelle." He waited for Erik's reaction to the mention of Danielle's fake name, considering that he had not spoken to her in almost an hour and a half.

Erik stammered slightly, "Have you now?" His mind swirled. Who was Michelle?

"Of course. I would be derelict in my official duties without introducing myself to your lovely wife."

"Yes, of course. I trust she was enjoying the party?" his eyes scanned inside, trying to spot her. She had strayed from the story, using a name he had not been prepared for and he knew why, she had seen Richard and panicked.

"Yes, until her unfortunate headache, that is. Such a shame she had to leave."

Erik's eyes widened. She was gone?

Richard noted his expression and added, "You did know that your wife left about twenty minutes ago, didn't you? Didn't she inform you of her being ill?"

"Well, of course she did." Erik answered back quickly.

Richard loved this. He didn't know what was wrong with Erik and Danielle's marriage, but it was apparent he didn't know she had left. He chose not to press further, opting to return to the party and let whatever happened after that happen.

"If you will excuse me, I must return to my guests, enjoy the rest of the party, Monsieur." He bowed and left Erik alone.

Erik paced around, full of questions. Danielle had a headache? The last time he had spotted her, it appeared as if she was quite relaxed and having a nice time.

When he saw Christine had returned, however, his mind was lost to all other thought. He could ask Danielle about everything tomorrow morning. Tonight, he just wanted to be with Christine, enjoy her, knowing he wouldn't be seeing her again.

* * *

Danielle stepped out of the carriage and immediately went inside Erik's house and straight upstairs to the Rose Room. She closed the door tightly. She was in no mood to see Emma, or anyone else for that matter. Her mind was made up. By the time Erik returned, she would be safely in her own bed, in her own home. 

She walked past the long mirror and saw herself in it. She shook her head at the extravagance of it all. The smoke and mirrors, if you will. He had done well, convinced her she was a lady, that she was something other than what she was. She looked at the ring on her finger. He'd given it to her. For what? To be an expensive arm piece for the sake of making another woman jealous? She snorted loudly as she took the ring off and placed it on the table by the bed. Truly, she had contemplated selling it in her angrier state, but she was not that kind of person, and would not start, no matter how much she hurt inside.

Then she spotted the envelope. Picking it up, she opened it and saw the money she'd been promised. She held it to her, feeling cheap, used and dirty. Yet, for all that, she could not turn down the money. She focused on that. The money would save her shop. Period. She had done everything short of whoring herself, all for the sake of her shop. She could not let her mother's dream die. It was all she had left. For that much, it was all worth it. Yes, she would cry, pity herself, but after she was home…then tomorrow, she would pay off her debts and move on and chalk it up to lessons learned.

After placing the envelope into her bag, she removed her gown, returning it to the large wardrobe. She stood at the dressing table and removed the ribbons and tiny flowers from her hair, then brushed out her long ringlets, making her hair smooth again before pinning it up tightly in a bun. She removed her rouge, knowing if her father spotted it, he would be quite angry. He never allowed the use of artificial embellishments, not with his mother and not with her.

She dressed and finished packing her bag with what little she had brought with her…a few pictures, mementos, a couple of her favorite books and a journal that belonged to her mother. She was sad, not just for what Erik had done to her, but what she was going to do to Emma and Lacie. She was not even going to say goodbye. It was wrong, but it hurt too much. She knew they had not been part of Erik's deception, she could feel it. She liked them very much, but as much as she liked them, her need to get away from Erik was much stronger.

She left the house silently and got back into the carriage, never speaking a word to Jacques. He drove her away slowly and she never looked back.

* * *

"Mother, may I speak with you alone?" Richard took his mother by the arm and led her into the parlor as she was bidding farewell to the party guests just after midnight. 

When they were secure inside, he shut the door and turned to her. Madame Dupré's face scowled, "Son, what is it?"

"Madame Renault. Did she tell you how she met Monsieur Renault?"

"No, not directly, but she told Madame Guérin and she told me. She said that they met in Boscherville, her aunt being a friend of his late mother's. Why?"

Richard turned and walked around the parlor, fingering some books on a shelf by the window as he observed everyone leaving the party. He did not recall Danielle's mention of an aunt when they were courting. "An aunt. What is her name?"

"I believe it is Marie…uh, Marie Perrault." She came to him and touched his arm. "Why do you wish to know?"

He turned sharply to his mother and looked down, touched her cheek. "Because, Mother, I believe she is not Michelle Renault as she claims, but actually Danielle Durand."

That made Madame Dupré gasp loudly.

* * *

Erik walked Christine to her carriage and spotted Raoul inside, waiting. He sighed, knowing his evening with her was over. He took her hand and kissed it. "Again, it was wonderful to see you again, Christine." 

She sighed at the feel of his lips on her hand, "It was wonderful to see you again as well, Erik. Perhaps…." She stammered, "perhaps, you could attend one of my rehearsals for Le Prophète. I have one tomorrow afternoon."

That, he had not foreseen, having already made plans with Danielle earlier that day to visit some shops and purchase her some new clothing. He could very well postpone the trip, but suddenly, he did not wish to, he truly wanted to be with Danielle. "Umm…unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to, so perhaps another time….?"

She smiled, "Of course. I know it was short notice, but please feel free to come to any one…or all of them. You know where I'll be."

He nodded.

"And please, extend to you wife that I hope she feels better soon."

With that, she turned and walked to the carriage and he watched as she got inside. He watched it ride away before going to his own.

* * *

The ride home was excruciating. He had come so close to taking Christine up on her offer, but he knew it was not wise. Christine was married. True, it appeared that they were having some problems, but it was not for him to interfere. He thought of Danielle and he could not wait to go to her room, to tell her what a success the night had been, thank her for all she had done for him. He hoped her headache had not made her fall asleep too harshly. He was concerned about her, he wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms. He wanted to know if she was alright after her encounter with Richard. It had appeared to him that Richard was none the wiser, but he also knew how much she had dreaded the thought of him being there. So many thoughts….so many…. 

As the carriage pulled up, he threw open the door and ran inside. Jacques watched, knowing he would discover Danielle gone and ask to see him again, he wisely remained and waited.

Erik stopped in the foyer, careful not to alarm any of his servants to his presence. He went upstairs silently and stopped at the closed door of the Rose Room. He knocked softly. No reply.

He knocked a second time and spoke, "Danielle?" before opening the door slowly, expecting to find her asleep.

He did not however, expect to find her gone.

He walked inside and looked around the room, empty now of everything that had made that room truly hers, what gave the normally drab room color and life. He opened the wardrobe and found the gown, so he knew she had been back, at least long enough to change her gown. He slammed the door and looked around again, confused. Where was she?

Then he saw the ring. He walked over to the side table and picked it up. He shook his head, not understanding anything. Why would she leave the ring behind? The money…he looked on the bed and saw the missing envelope… was gone, and so was she.

He went back outside to find Jacques waiting on him. He stopped and with a frown, asked him, "Where is she?"

"She asked me to take her home, Monsieur." Jacques replied.

"Home? Why?"

"She did not tell me, but she was very unhappy. She was silent the whole way there, very sad and silent."

"How long ago?"

"Not long, probably a half hour. I came straight to Madame Dupré's from there."

Erik groaned.

"Do you wish to go after her?"

"No. Tomorrow I shall decide what I want to do, tonight I am tired and will retire. Get some sleep, Jacques."

Jacques merely nodded as he pulled the carriage around to the side of the house.

* * *

Danielle entered her apartment, seeing one small gas lamp lit beside her father's large chair. He was there, reading. He barely turned his head when he addressed her. "Did Michelle give birth this evening?" His voice was low and quiet, seemingly devoid of any anger or malice. 

"No, Father. It was a false alarm."

"So, she is better now."

"Yes she is."

"And you will not be needed again until she gives birth?"

"No, Father."

"Then you will not leave hereunless it is to do errands,and if you ever think of defying me again, in word or deed, I shall find it necessary to take physical retribution, is that understood?" He spoke nothing more and continued to read his book.

She shook her head with a slight smirk, "Yes, Father." She expected nothing less from the cold and calculating man he had become.

She went into her room and shut the door, hiding her packed bag under her bed. She would unpack later. Now, she just wanted to sleep. Perhaps, after all, her father was right. She did not belong out there. She was just too naive now, too trusting and vulnerable after years of isolating herself from the outside world. None of it mattered. He had forbid her to leave, and quite simply, she no longer cared.

Yet, she still cried herself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: As always, keep the reviews coming! I am now 2 chapters ahead, but my beta isn't. LOL! Once she catches me up, I'll post more. Thanks again to everyone who takes time to review. And, if anyone is interested in the whole story up until this point, please email me at eriksbellenoire at aol dot com(of course, combine it all, you know the drill). Thanks, Melissa**


	13. Chapter 13

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Thirteen:

The sun had just barely risen over the Pont Neuf by the time Evelyne and her daughter Nathalie came to the shop extra early the next morning to open and prepare for the day. She had already warned Nathalie on their way there to be aware of Jean-Pierre's changing mood, but she was not terribly leery, Jean-Pierre liked Nathalie very much and would most likely curb his tongue around her, at least until he was alone.

She wished he could feel the same way about Danielle. Since she began working in the shop five years prior, Jean-Pierre's relentless bantering, coldness and anger towards his only child had always eluded her. Danielle seemed almost immune to it and had explained to her one day that he had been that way since her mother's untimely passing a few years before. She sighed when she noted how it appeared that the poor young woman had just simply given up, or actually….given in to her fate, as if she just didn't have anything else.

As they approached the shop door, Evelyne recalled vividly one incident that happened about two years before….

_It was a rather warm summer day and the doors and windows of the shop were wide open to allow some air to flow through the cramped space. Danielle was in the main window, dressing the mannequins with new summer displays when a group of rather attractive young men happened by as they exited the Pont Neuf. Due to the heat, Danielle was wearing a rather low on the shoulder type of dress and unbeknownst to her, when she leaned over, it gaped just a bit in the front. She became aware of this eventually and when she would bend over, she would press her hand to her chest to prevent it. The men stopped just off the side of the street to watch her work in the window. They were not gawking, Evelyne surmised for herself, just observing who they felt was a very attractive young woman. Danielle, of course, was not oblivious to the stares, but in her soft spoken manner, she simply smiled at them and continued with her task, assuming they were interested in her window display. However, within five minutes, Jean-Pierre could be heard from the window above the shop, screaming loudly at the young men to leave or the gendarmes would be called. They left, quickly. The sound of Jean-Pierre running down the stairs was so thunderous, Evelyne was almost sure it was coming from rain clouds and not the shop. He entered the shop, went straight to Danielle, pulled her harshly out of the window and to the floor. She went pale, silent and scared. She knew the poor girl had no clue what she had done wrong. _

"_What do you mean, parading yourself like a courtesan in front of a window like that, girl?" he screamed at her. _

_She helplessly shook her head. _

"_Have you lost your voice? Answer me!" _

"_I was changing the mannequins in the new window display." She squeaked out. _

_Jean-Pierre snorted as she went to the window. Suddenly, he began ripping the gowns on the mannequins to shreds, sending material, costume jewelry, and floral arrangements flying around the room. The window display was completely destroyed. Evelyne had covered her mouth in shock, but Danielle just sat there on the floor, as if none of it registered. _

_When his tirade was finished he returned to Danielle and jerked her to her feet by her arm. "Now…" he said coldly. "Go upstairs and put on a proper dress." Then he shoved her away from him towards the stairwell to the upstairs apartment before he said to her, "Believe me, if I thought you would make a halfway decent courtesan, I would have been able to save this shop years go."_

_Evelyne gasped and Jean-Pierre turned away, having not been aware of her presence until that very moment. She watched as Danielle started up the stairs and Jean-Pierre said to her before she disappeared, "then return here and clean up this mess." _

_He threw an almost apologetic glance to Evelyne as he exited the shop. That, she still could not understand. It was if he didn't care who saw him treat his daughter that way but her….. _

As she unlocked the door and entered the shop she found it was still dark and empty. While Nathalie opened the windows and lit the lamps, Evelyne went into the back room, half expecting to be greeted at the stairwell by a crazed Jean-Pierre, screaming about Danielle not returning home that night.

The last thing they expected was to see Danielle already there, sitting in her favorite chair, sewing on Madame Lamoureux's gown just as if nothing had ever happened.

She gasped, "Danielle!"

Danielle looked up and smiled at her.

Evelyne lowered her tone, knowing Nathalie was still in the shop. She sat down next to Danielle and studied her. "What happened? Why are you back here? I was ready for a showdown with Jean-Pierre."

"No need Evelyne. I am home now." Her tone was back to normal, totally defeated. That was not good to hear.

"But Erik…."

"Truly, I would rather not talk about it. I have to go to the landlord's this morning and pay off the back rent, then go and pay off Father's other debts but I wanted to get ahead of Madame Lamoureux's gown first."

"Then the party did happen? You did get paid?"

"Yes." She answered, then smiled again when she saw Nathalie enter the backroom.

"I do not…"

"Nothing to understand, Evelyne. It is very simple, I am not leaving again."

"Then does that mean you do not need me, Danielle?" Nathalie asked as she returned, holding a bolt of dark blue velvet material that had been lying by the door of the shop.

"Oh, no dear. I still need you and now, I will be able to pay you a proper part time wage."

That made the young girl smile.

"It is not necessary Danielle, Nathalie is here to learn, nothing more."

"Nonsense Evelyne, Nathalie is a fine seamstress, much more experienced than I was at her age. She is ready to be paid for her hard work. And I do not wish to argue about it." She stood and put her hands on Evelyne's shoulders. "I want to do this. You need the money, I know that Paul has had trouble finding steady work since the factory closed down. I find this very little compensation for all you have done for us."

Evelyne nodded, "But if you find you can no longer afford it…."

"Yes, I know. Now….I must go. I have been here for a good two hours. I took Father his coffee early and I have left him his breakfast on the stove to stay warm. I wrote him a note informing him I was going to the market."

"If he says anything to me, we will back up your story."

"Thank you both. I shall return as soon as possible." She grabbed her shawl, touched Nathalie's cheek comfortingly, and left the shop.

Evelyne could only shake her head as she gathered up Madame Lamoureux's gown and placed it off the table so her and Nathalie could begin cutting dress patterns.

* * *

Jules arrived early at Erik's house to find him in his library, busily pouring over his books, a deep and pensive scowl on his face. Something told him it was not the finances that caused that look. He stuck his head inside the door and knocked on the frame. "Monsieur?"

"What is it, Jules?" he barely looked up at him.

"I have come to accompany Mademoiselle Danielle to pay her debts, as per your request."

"It is not necessary." He informed him.

"Not necessary? But…"

"I said, it was not necessary!" he shouted back, throwing Jules a sneering glare.

Jules remained in stunned silence.

"Is there anything else?"

"I was curious to know how the party went last night, Monsieur."

"I do not care to discuss it at this time, Jules. Was that all you wished to ask me?"

"Yes, that is all, Monsieur."

"Then if you will excuse me. I have much to do."

Jules raised an eyebrow, wondering what was wrong, but not daring to ask anything else. He knew better. He turned and walked back into the foyer and toward the door when he spotted Emma coming down the staircase. He stopped her.

Emma, carrying an armful of linens from the Rose Room, saw his confused expression, "You have been in to see Monsieur Erik."

"Yes, and he was…"

"In the foulest of moods, yes. He barely spoke to me when I brought him his coffee earlier and watched him drink it in total silence. He did not even wish to have his paper. And then when I asked if he and Mademoiselle Danielle enjoyed the party, he almost growled at me, telling me it was none of my business and not to bring it up again. Truly, Monsieur, I have not seen him in such downcast in a very long time."

"Did you ever find out what happened?"

"Yes. Eventually. Monsieur Erik told me to clean and strip Mademoiselle Danielle's room. He did not say anything else, so after cleaning the kitchen, I went upstairs to her room to see if she wished to have breakfast before I cleaned her room and…" Emma leaned in and whispered, "I found Mademoiselle Danielle…gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone. She packed her bag and left…no note, no explanation."

"When? Did Monsieur Erik tell you?"

"No, he said nothing. Jacques told Lacie what happened and Lacie came to me. Fortunately, she found me before I went into the library to ask Monsieur Erik."

"What did Lacie say?"

"She said that Jacques told her she left last night after the party."

"Oh no."

"Yes, he also said that she left Erik at the party, came home early, packed her bags and instructed him to take her home. He said she remained silent all the way."

"Did she take the money?"

"That I do not know. I did see the ring though, she left it on the side table. The envelope with the money was not on the bed where I had left it before retiring last night."

Jules was shocked, "I do not understand."

"I do not understand myself. I just wished she could have come to me; I would have listened to her, comforted her. Something upset her, so much so that it caused her to return to her father, without so much as a goodbye."

"I agree, Emma. I shall find her; perhaps she will tell me what happened." Jules said.

Emma smiled. She knew he would.

* * *

Jules ran into the dress shop an hour later to find Jean-Pierre behind the counter, settling a purchase. He stood back patiently and waited, his eyes scanning the small space.

Danielle was nowhere to be found. He hoped that she was in the back.

When the customer left, Jean-Pierre spotted the finely dressed gentleman and rose respectfully, "Monsieur, may I help you?"

He sighed a bit in relief that Jean-Pierre had not recognized him as the messenger from the previous day. "I would like to speak to your daughter, if I may."

Jean-Pierre's eyes widened slightly, "Danielle? Why?"

"It is a private matter."

"Nothing is private in regards to my daughter, Monsieur."

Jules reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of francs. Jean-Pierre's mouth almost fell open and almost watered when he saw them.

"Perhaps you could….overlook such privacy, for now, Monsieur?" he approached the counter and laid down a hundred franc note upon it.

Jean-Pierre reached for the note, but Jules slapped his hand down upon his, holding it tightly, "Now, may I speak with your daughter?"

"She is not here."

Jules' hand did not budge.

"Honestly, Monsieur. She left for the market earlier. You can ask Evelyne, our seamstress."

"Call her."

"Evelyne! Evelyne! Come here please!" he called out, keeping a death grip on the hundred franc note, despite Jules' tight grasp.

Evelyne appeared and spotted Jules' face, recognizing him immediately. She took a deep breath but kept silent otherwise. "Yes, Jean-Pierre?"

"Tell this kind and generous gentleman where Danielle is."

"She is at the market, Monsieur." She answered simply, her gaze fixed on Jules. "She should return any time now, would you like to wait?" She gestured toward the back wall, where a long velvet couch sat, gathering dust.

Jules was not in the mood to wait, "Where does she typically go to market?" he asked.

"Three blocks up, on the corner." She pointed out and to her right.

"Thank you, Madame….?"

"Piret, Evelyne Piret."

Jules released Jean-Pierre's hand and watched as the hundred franc note disappeared into the old man's pocket as he nodded at Evelyne, giving her an unspoken 'thank you' for not giving him away.

He then smirked at Jean-Pierre as he nodded. "Monsieur."

He exited the shop, then jumped into the carriage and told Jacques to head up the block toward the market. He fortunately did not have to go far. They barely got two blocks before Jacques spotted Danielle, her arms full of groceries, the most groceries she had purchased in a long time. Before Jules could respond, Jacques had pulled the carriage over, calling out, "Mademoiselle!" and waving his arms frantically.

Danielle turned and looked up at Jacques as he jumped down off the carriage. "Jacques, what are you…?"

Then she saw the carriage door open.

Oh no, not Erik…her heart skipped a beat.

"Danielle. I need to speak with you." Jules called out as he came to her, touching her arm.

Relieved, yet a bit disappointed, she replied, "Jules, I have nothing to say."

"Have you spent the money?"

"What?"

"Have you spent the…"

She snorted rather visibly. So, that's why Jules was there, to get the money back for Erik.

"Look, I paid off the landlord and my father's other debts, then marketed for some food." She said defensively before reaching into her pocket and pulling out the envelope. She thrust it into Jules' hand. "Take this back to Erik. He said the money was mine, but apparently I was mistaken. I shall work double in the shop to pay him back for the money I have already spent and I…."

Jules caught her wrist and held her, taking the envelope. "He does not want the money back." He said rather offended. "Take it, you should not be wandering around the streets with such money openly. He shoved the envelope back at her and she took it, placing it into her pocket.

"Then why did you ask…."

"I just wanted to make sure that you had paid your debts. I was supposed to accompany you, if you recall. Then help you invest the money back into your business so it can show a larger profit quickly."

"You did not come all the way here, hunt me down and almost run over me with the carriage just to tell me that. What is the real reason you are here?"

"I just wanted to know what happened. Why did you leave?"

She turned away, "I am not ready to discuss that."

Jules took her arm and pulled her into the carriage as Jacques smirked. "Working with Monsieur Erik, I have learned patience, I can wait."

* * *

They sat in the carriage after it pulled in front of the dress shop nearly a half hour before Danielle finally could take no more. "Very well then, if you insist on knowing."

Jules simply smiled, "Thank you. Now, what happened?"

"I figured out his little game, that is all." She replied snappishly.

"Game, I do not understand?"

"He truly had me fooled. True that I am naive, but quite honestly, I did not think I could fall for something like that. But I did."

"Danielle…."

"He got what he wanted, Monsieur Bernard." Her voice now raised, "He won the heart of his fair Christine de Chagny."

That, he did not see coming. "What?"

"Oh yes. His plan of having me there to make her jealous, thus making her want him worked well. She was jealous and she wanted him. Within ten minutes of our arrival and announcement, she was there and had taken him off to the terrace to…talk….leaving me alone to fend for myself among a pack of stuffy society rats." She fumed, then turned away again.

Jules wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he took in everything that was just told to him. "He never returned?"

"No, he did not even check up on me. Finally, after almost two hours of being alone, I feigned a headache and left the party."

That was not like Erik, not at all. He knew that he had not gone there with the intention of winning Christine back. "Are you so sure they are together again?"

"They spent the whole evening together, even after I left, why would they not be?"

"Surely, they did not…."

Danielle glanced out at Jacques, who was pacing around the carriage. She gestured for him to approach. "Tell me. Did you see Erik and the Vicomtess together last night?"

Jacques looked at Jules. Jules nodded, "Did you?"

"Yes, Monsieur. They were talking outside before she got into the carriage with her husband."

"See?" Danielle said. "And that is not the worst. Richard was there. He recognized me! He addressed me outside on the terrace."

"What did he say?"

"He called me Danielle. He said he knew of my little secret, but would keep quiet. I do not know what he meant by that, but it made me very nervous. Yet, I did not give in to his little game, unlike Monsieur Erik…I am not one to wish to return to the past."

"Oh my…."

"Yes, if Erik had been there, perhaps Richard might not have approached me, or perhaps he could have spoken to Richard and I would not have had to do it alone. But he was not, he was off somewhere with Christine, laughing….reminiscing about old times, no doubt."

"Something is not right. Monsieur Erik would not do that. He never wished to win Christine back, you must believe me."

"I no longer care, Monsieur Bernard. You can simply inform Monsieur Renault that our association is now finished. I will not see him again."

"But the inauguration…"

"I am afraid that will not happen. My father has forbidden me from leaving the shop."

"But you were paid for both occasions."

She stood then and Jacques opened the door for her as she picked up her bags, "If Monsieur Renault wishes to settle up the difference, he knows where to find me. Good day, gentlemen." She turned and walked quickly into the shop, leaving Jacques and a very stunned Jules to think about what she had said.

"So, she is rather jealous of Christine." Jules said to Jacques.

"Yes, I believe she is, and she's also very hurt."

* * *

Once Jules arrived back at Erik's home just before lunchtime, he had removed all thoughts of proper etiquette out of his mind as he strolled in the front door, through the foyer and straight into Erik's library uninvited.

"You left Mademoiselle Danielle alone at the party to spend the evening with Christine de Chagny?" he said as he burst through the library doors.

Erik's head flew up from his papers, his eyes shooting daggers as he abruptly stood up, bristling with annoyance. "I do not take kindly to accusations being made in my own home, even by you, Jules."

"Perhaps, Monsieur Erik, but I wish to know if it is true."

"I spoke with the Vicomtess during the party, yes." He sat down again at his desk, but his eyes were still stern and alert.

Jules approached his desk, but still kept a safe distance. He was ready for anything, "All night?"

Erik's eyes narrowed. "I do not recall this being any business of yours."

"I brought Mademoiselle Danielle to you, I made the arrangements, I took care of everything, so quite frankly, Monsieur, anything to do with her welfare is my business."

"You do not know anything that happened and I refuse to sit and listen…."

"You will sit and listen, and you will answer me truthfully." Jules spat back, surprised at himself and half expecting Erik to go into a rage, but nevertheless, he continued, "Or perhaps you do not care to know the reason that Mademoiselle Danielle left."

He grimaced, fighting his urge to stand and throw Jules out on his impetuous, pompous ass. Yet, he couldn't, he wanted to know why Danielle had left and apparently, Jules had the answers.

"So you have spoken with Mademoiselle Danielle."

"I have, Monsieur. She told me everything."

Erik calmed himself, taking a sip of tea. Then he gestured to the chair in front of his desk and Jules sat down.

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me you left with Christine less than ten minutes after being announced and never looked back."

That took time to sink in.

"She is rather angry and hurt, Monsieur, and I cannot say that I blame her. You left her to the wolves."

"I did not mean to…I…" Erik stammered, his mind trying to reason, to rationalize his behavior…and failing.

"She is sure now that everything you did, from start to finish, was a lie. That you brought her to the party to make Christine jealous, and nothing more. That you used her to get Christine back. That is what happened, is it not? Tell me I am wrong."

Erik gripped his desk so hard his knuckles turned white. His face drained of all its color, so much so his mask almost blended seamlessly. Jules was right.

Damn him and his stupidity! He had seen Christine and all reason fled.

"Bloody hell…"

"I tried to convince her you would never do that, but she did not believe me, yet now I see I was wrong." Jules continued when Erik never responded verbally, "She has informed me that she is no longer interested in the arrangement. She says that if you wish to settle up the difference of the money, you knew where to find her."

His head dropped, his eyes closing shut. God, what had he done? It all made sense now. He had left her alone to chase Christine like a lovesick school boy, just as if the past year had never happened. Danielle was hurt and angry and she had every right to be.

"Dear God…" he muttered under his breath. "After everything that happened between us these past three days…she thinks it was all a lie?"

"Yes, she does. How does three days with her compare to a year of missing Christine?"

"When did you see her?"

"I just returned from her shop, we initially spoke in the carriage, but she went inside, refusing to confide in me. I followed her to the apartment via the fire escape and I convinced her to speak with me further."

"And?"

"As I said before, she is hurt, Monsieur. Very hurt. And confused, conflicted by the feelings she has for you. I am sure neither one of you expected to want more out of this, but it happened. You know that she has not been close to a man in a very long time, it scared her, yet she was willing to throw it all aside for you."

"I was willing to do the same thing, until…" he whispered almost inaudibly.

"Also, her seeing Monsieur Dupré did not help matters." Jules added.

Erik cringed, guilt washing over him. "I had almost forgotten about that, I should have been there. Did he…"

"Recognize her? Yes. He called her by name, but she did not give in. She feels, unfortunately, she was not very convincing in that aspect. I believe that is why she feels it is best not to go to the inauguration, despite the fact that her father has forbidden her from leaving again. She is confident you can come up with an excuse for the evening, and enjoy the company of the Vicomtess instead."

Erik snorted at the very idea. Then looked into Jules' eyes. "Her father forbids her?"

"Yes."

"Nonsense. I will simply bring her here like I did yesterday."

"You believe it will be so easy this time, Monsieur? I do not think so."

"But surely she expects me, I mean she knows I would not allow her to just walk away as if nothing happened and not demand an explanation, a chance to…."

"Yes, Monsieur. Even in the back of her mind, I am sure Mademoiselle Danielle wishes for you to come after her, to show you care, that you are truly remorseful. Perhaps, if anything, so she may properly tell you to leave her alone. That would give her closure."

"I do not want closure." Erik said firmly, his teeth gritting. "I want her. Here."

A knock came to the library door. Both Jules and Erik turned to the sound.

"I apologize for the interruption, Monsieur…" Emma's nervous voice spoke, almost at a whisper.

Erik remembered how he'd treated Emma earlier that morning and added it to his long list of regrets. The lady did not deserve his temper. "Yes, what is it, Emma?" he replied, keeping his tone as pleasant as possible despite the situation.

"A messenger just delivered this for you." She held up a large envelope. "It's from Boscherville."

Erik stood so quickly that it made Emma jump back about a foot. He stopped and smiled, "My apologies Emma, please bring it in, I have been waiting for it."

She exhaled, swallowing her heart back into her chest and approached. She handed the envelope to Erik, bowed and made a swift exit, her eyes glancing at Jules in silent thank you. Whatever he was saying to Erik, appeared to improve his mood.

Erik ripped open the envelope and pulled out a slip of paper, showing it to Jules. It was a marriage license, a perfectly forged marriage license. "Here it is. Finally."

Jules took it and examined it closely, looking for any possible mistakes, but finding nothing…a most expert duplication. "A fine forgery, Monsieur. Everything appears to be in order."

Erik dropped it on his desk as he sank down into his chair and put his head in his hands, "Except I shall not need it now."

"If you talk to her, Monsieur…"

He shook his head emphatically, defeated. "I was a fool, Jules. A complete fool. All I wanted was one night with Christine, just one night to show her I could live without her, make her understand that…I do not know….that I survived, that I went on. I had hoped it would make her feel guilty that she had left me for de Chagny. And I was right. She felt guilty, she told me as much when we walked along the terrace last night. I thought I would feel vindicated, but all I felt was….what if…"

"What if..?"

"What if she had not left me? What if she had agreed to live with me in the cellars?"

"That was an impossibility, Monsieur, the mob was approaching, you couldn't have stayed there or you would have died, and quite possibly, she would have died too in the ensuing melee."

"That is my point. Her leaving me was the best thing that could have happened to me. It literally saved my life, although for a long time I would have rather died. None of this, Jules…" he gestured around his library, "…none of this would be here if it were not for her making that fateful decision."

"This is very true, yet….?"

He sighed deeply. "Yet, for all that, I still wanted her last night. I did not see what could have been if she had stayed, but what could be if she were with me now. And with that, I lost all sense of my true purpose and all thought of Danielle."

Jules sat back in the chair and smiled softly. "Then what made you finally think of her?"

"After I escorted Christine back to her carriage, she asked me to come and see her rehearsal for Le Prophète. Instead of saying yes automatically, I remembered that I had an engagement with Danielle, and I declined the invitation. For the first time that evening since being in Christine's presence, I had thought of Danielle and it was if something inside me snapped, it told me then and there….I could not go back to Christine. Ever. I belonged here, with Danielle. I could not wait to return here and….be with her, to tell her myself how much she meant to me."

"It is good that you came to that conclusion."

"But curse my wretched ignorance, why did I not come to that conclusion sooner in the evening? Why did I not realize at that moment that I was leaving Danielle to fend for herself? I will never expect her forgiveness."

"But, Monsieur, you must go to her and tell her this….tell her what you've told me."

But Erik simply hung his head low, his fingers tapping on the papers stacked in front of him. "No, perhaps it is best she stay away, I do not deserve her."

Jules opened his mouth to protest, to say anything, but Emma's voice from the library door again interrupted any attempt.

"Monsieur!" she called out.

Erik looked up and saw her panicked face that went with her loud shriek. "What is it?"

"Monsieur Mancia is here!"

Erik threw a glare at Jules. "Did you expect his arrival here?"

"No, Monsieur! No! This is truly unexpected."

"Get rid of him, I am in no mood to…."

Mancia pounded on the front door.

Jules held his breath and Erik made no move.

"He knows you are here, Monsieur." Emma said softly.

Another round of pounding as Emma waited for instructions.

Groaning, Erik stood and straightened his shirt. "Yes, I suppose he does." He took a deep breath and looked at Emma. "You and Lacie are excused to the guest house until his departure, Jules will let him inside."

Bowing, Emma left the library as Jules walked to the front door.

It did not take long for Erik to catch the stench of cheap wine as Mancia walked into the library. He rolled his eyes and hoped, for the sake of the opera house, that the man did not make him angry, not now.

"Monsieur Renault…..a grand party last evening, would you not say?" Mancia bellowed.

"It was a success, yes." He turned up his nose as the stench grew more noticeable, "What do I owe this…pleasure….?"

Laughing, Mancia walked around the room, then glared at Jules. "I wish to speak to you alone."

Jules looked at Erik, who had no intention of being left alone with the uncouth man, not for one second.

"Whatever you wish to say to me, you may say in his presence." Erik told him, in a tone that signaled to Mancia that he best not argue.

"Very well. I have just come from the opera house and a visit with one Monsieur Dupré. He had many questions regarding your dear wife… Danielle is it? Or is it, Michelle by chance? At least that is the name she gave Monsieur Dupré last evening on the terrace."

Jules groaned to himself as Erik rubbed his chin. "And what is your point?"

"My point is, Monsieur Dupré is convinced that your wife is….shall we say, an imposter?…not who she claims to be."

"Impossible." Jules interrupted and Erik threw him a glance.

"Tis true, Monsieur Bernard. The man tells me he knows she is not Michelle Perrault Renault, but one Danielle Durand, the daughter of some lowly dress maker down on Rue du Bailleul." Mancia peeked out the side window, glancing out at Emma and Lacie crossing the garden toward the guest house.

Erik remembered the marriage license on his desk and picked it up, pretending, while Mancia was looking out the window, that he was pulling it out of a drawer. He rustled the paper. "Here is proof."

Mancia turned around as the paper was shoved at him. He examined it closely. "I see." Then he began to read it, "Danielle Marie Perrault to Frederick Charles Renault…married six months ago at St-George church in Boscherville…umm… then perhaps you could tell me why she told Monsieur Dupré that her name was Michelle."

"I spoke to my wife about that and she informed me that Monsieur Dupré made her quite uncomfortable, mistaking her for someone else. In fact, he was quite persistent. She told him her name was Michelle, her mother's name, in hopes it would pacify him."

"Dupré says the name Michelle is Danielle Durand's cousin, a cousin that has lived in Versailles for a good ten years now. Rather easy to check out, if you ask me."

Erik held his cool, "Merely a coincidence, I assure you."

Mancia might have been a boor, but he was not stupid. He put two and two together and knew nothing made sense, yet, he had to admire Erik for lying with such cool dexterity. "Umm…believe me, Monsieur Renault…I do not care who you marry, whether it be a courtesan or a countess. But if you wish to keep up a ruse such as this, you may want to deal with Monsieur Dupré. He is determined to prove she is Danielle Durand, his reasoning behind it, I am unsure of. He could make trouble for you."

"Did he say how he planned on proving it?" Jules asked.

"He plans a visit to the Durand's dress shop to confront Danielle Durand if she is there, and if not, her father."

Erik remained calm on the outside, but inside, his heart leapt into his throat. He threw a glance at Jules, who simply nodded. He understood what he had to do.

"Did he say when?" Jules asked Mancia.

"Today he said, more likely this afternoon would be my assumption."

Jules pretended to check his pocket watch and jump at the time. "Monsieurs! My apologies, for I have let the time slip upon me, my wife is awaiting me, I promised her I would be home for lunch and a trip to the jewelers."

Erik shooed him with his hand, "Yes, by all means, go. Please give her my best."

Jules nodded to Mancia, "Monsieur," before exiting the library and practically running to the carriage, calling for Jacques.

Erik slowly sat down at his desk and breathed a sigh of relief after Jules left without incident or suspicion on Mancia's part, "Was that all you wished to speak to me about today, Monsieur?"

"One other minor thing you should be aware of…." He began slowly and Erik waited for him to throw out a long disgusting belch before he continued, "it is about Le Prophète."

Erik raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"I heard part of the morning rehearsals. The Vicomtess…she is rather…well, horrid comes to mind."

"Horrid? Unthinkable…Christine Daaé…I mean de Chagny…was one of the most celebrated young voices in Paris."

"Was, yes. Now, a year without singing has done unspeakable damage to her voice. I am no opera expert, but she sounds strained and hoarse. For the sake of your opera house opening, Monsieur, I suggest you find that young lady a tutor, and fast."

Erik stood again and grabbed his jacket from the chair. This, he had to hear for himself, despite the fact that he did not wish to see Christine again. If she could not do the part, he needed to know now, in time to make sure her understudy could take over. "Monsieur Bernard has taken my carriage, I feel certain you will be more than accommodating as to take me to the opera house in yours?"

"Of course." Mancia gestured towards the door, "let us go, quickly."

That, Erik mused, was the most sensible thing Mancia had said since he arrived.


	14. Chapter 14

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: 

Evelyne had just finished placing together parts of a silk evening dress when she heard the bell of the shop door ring. She groaned, knowing she was alone and could not easily run out and tend to whoever it was. Danielle had excused herself to start on their lunch upstairs, while Jean-Pierre had left with his new hundred franc note to purchase some brandy and cigars. Neither knew she was up to her elbows in material.

"One moment!" she called out, trying to pin down the last two pieces. They'd simply have to wait, she muttered to herself.

Jules did not have a moment, he ran into the back, throwing back the curtain to see her standing at a long table in the back, next to the window.

"Oh my, Monsieur Bernard…" She gasped.

"Please forgive the sudden intrusion, Madame Piret, but tell me quickly, where is Danielle?"

"Why, she is upstairs in her apartment preparing lunch."

"And Monsieur Durand?"

"Spending his hundred franc note. What is…?"

"I shall return shortly, but please, do not let anyone into the shop until I return. Go now, and lock the door."

"But, Monsieur…."

"Do it! It's of the utmost importance!" he practically shouted as he exited the back room, the dark curtain flapping behind him.

Evelyne said nothing else as she exited the backroom, watching Jules run like mad up the narrow stairwell, taking the steps two by two. She locked the door, pulled down the shade and returned to the backroom to wait patiently. Hopefully, she would be filled in and soon.

Danielle was standing at the counter of her kitchen, having just warmed up some left over roast and vegetables. She was placing it into bowls and beside each bowl she placed a slice of fresh baguette, newly purchased from the bakery that morning. She smiled, happy she was able to make such…in her mind…extravagant purchases, something she had not done in a very long time. She no more got the bowls on the tray than she heard someone calling her name frantically.

"Danielle!"

She ran out into her sitting room in time to see Jules run in, "Jules? What is it, what is wrong?"

"Trouble. Big trouble. Monsieur Dupré is on his way here, to expose you as a fraud, to expose Erik as having married an imposter." He gripped her shoulders, knowing this would be a shock.

Her hand flew to her mouth. "What? How did you find this out?"

"Monsieur Mancia told us less than half an hour ago. He plans to come here and confront you."

She began to panic, her body shaking. What a nightmare! Why in the world would Richard be so anxious to ruin Erik? "Oh my God, Jules, what do we do?"

With a calmer voice, he tried to be reassuring, "I have an idea. How long as your father been gone?"

"Not long, perhaps fifteen minutes. He went to Genet's to purchase some brandy and cigars."

"Good, that will keep him occupied…let us just hope it is long enough. And as for you…" he looked her up and down, noting her drab clothing, "….you will need to change into something….less comfortable."

He grabbed her hand and together they ran back downstairs.

* * *

Erik arrived in the main theatre of the opera house just as everyone was filing in to begin early afternoon rehearsals. After spending ten minutes unsuccessfully trying to lose Monsieur Mancia in the halls, he resorted to re-entering his secret passageways, which had grown rather dank and dusty in their year long neglect. He came out just outside BoxFive and took a minute to brush off the cobwebs before leisurely making his way down to the front row of the main theatre. He found Monsieur Reyer in the orchestra pit, gathering sheet music as the musicians were warming up. He leaned down and tapped him on the shoulder. 

Monsieur Reyer looked up and gasped slightly, "Monsieur Renault, I did not expect you here today." He was one of just a very small handful of people, besides Monsieur Mancia and Jules Bernard, that knew of Erik's presence in the opera house over the past months during the reconstruction. He was paid well for his discretion and silence.

"Indeed, I did not intend to be here myself, but I was informed there was a problem."

"A problem, Monsieur?"

"Yes. The Vicomtess….Christine….how is she…I mean…I hear she is not doing as well as she should."

Reyer stiffened, then sighed, "You were informed correctly. She is, shall we say, a bit rusty."

"Rusty?"

Reyer opened his mouth to elaborate further, yet never got the chance as both men suddenly heard a shrilling voice echoing from the other side of the stage.

To Erik's shock, it was Christine. Reyer didn't flinch.

"I said I did not want milk in my tea!" she shouted at her assistant as she came closer to the middle of the stage, her shoes stomping rather loudly. "How many times must I tell you these things? Get me another cup, now."

The poor assistant nodded and ran off to do as she was told.

"Do not let her see me." Erik ducked down slightly behind the lip of the orchestra pit as Christine approached, knowing the lights from the stage would obscure him enough.

Reyer nodded and turned toward the young soprano. "Vicomtess, are you ready to begin again?"

"Yes, of course, Monsieur." She exhaled, then inhaled again and began to sing scales to warm up her voice.

Erik slipped up the aisle and sat in the back rows, listening closely.

Christine was in a most unsettling mood. She had already had one fight with Raoul over the previous night's adventure with Madame Dupré's daughter, causing her to arrive late for morning rehearsals. And then her voice. She was not naive anymore. She knew her voice was bad. She could see the people lined along the side of the stage whispering, gasping, shaking their heads. No one was there that she knew from the old opera house except Monsieur Reyer and he offered no comfort. She missed Meg, she missed Madame Giry.

She missed Erik.

She always sang well knowing he was around to hear her, to guide her voice. Considering their apparent strong reconnection, she had hoped by her invitation the night before that his presence would strengthen her voice, give her added confidence. Yet to her shock and disappointment, he'd turned her down.

In favor of his wife.

That did not settle well with her. But what could she do now? Nothing. She had made her decision, she had married Raoul and Erik had married Danielle. And, despite his roving eye, she loved Raoul very much, no matter what she still felt for Erik. But it was not enough, not enough to make her get over her regrets, her 'what if's'…the longing for her Angel of Music…

"Vicomtess?" Reyer asked her again.

She shook her head and tried her best to concentrate on the opera. Nodding at Monsieur Reyer, the music began.

Erik closed his eyes, lying against the back of the seat as Christine sang…

….and she barely got through the first aria before Erik winced, sitting straight up in his seat with a painful groan. What had happened to her over the past year?

She was not as _horrid_ as Monsieur Mancia had said, but she was certainly far worse than the _rusty_ Reyer had told him. But one thing that he was sure of… she needed help, and right away.

He sat back and tried to keep his composure as the rest of the rehearsals continued on over the next hour and a half. He studied each and every aspect of the opera and surmised that the rest of the cast did well, considering they had only been rehearsing for less than a week before the arrival of the Vicomtess. He was indeed impressed with everything…except Christine. Poor Christine just appeared awkward, clumsy and unsure of herself, never improving in anything the whole time she was on stage. Worse yet, she blamed everyone but herself…from the props being in the wrong place, to the dancers bumping into her, to the lights being too bright. She finally gave up after the tenth time she flubbed her lines, threw a major fit and left for her dressing room, her assistant in tow. Erik could not help but laugh as she suddenly reminded him of Carlotta, long since gone from the opera house.

_Well, I suppose we needed another temperamental diva…._

He laughed outwardly, but deep inside, he was worried. She could never go on stage like this and wondered if, in three weeks, she would even improve.

When it appeared that Christine would not return, Erik walked down to the orchestra pit again and addressed Monsieur Reyer. "It appears you were correct in your earlier evaluation, Monsieur." He told him.

Reyer sighed, "I am afraid so. I know she has only been working for two days, but she appears to be as uncomfortable on stage as if she had never appeared here before."

"I agree. Also, she does not appear to have the vocal strength she once had."

"Perhaps that will come in time, Monsieur."

Erik rubbed his chin. He was just not convinced. He needed to think on the situation. "Monsieur," he leaned in to whisper to Reyer, "do not tell anyone, especially Christine, that I was here. I will be checking in, and if I do not think she is capable, we may we have no other choice but to replace her in due time with her understudy."

Reyer inhaled sharply, "But, Monsieur, she has no understudy."

"What?" Erik's eyes widened.

"She refused one. She said it was not needed."

"Ridiculous. Everyone has an understudy."

Reyer shrugged, making Erik grimace. "No understudy." He shook his head. "Then I suppose I had best go about finding her a tutor."

That, Reyer agreed to emphatically.

* * *

It has been quite a few years, over eight in fact, since Richard Dupré had been down Rue du Bailleul, not since the night he came into Durand's dress shop and told Danielle he was marrying Catherine. She had been bright as a copper coin, boisterous, exuberant, too exuberant, his mother noted after their only meeting…not demure enough to be a lady, but he didn't care. Always laughing, he recalled. Always laughing at his bad jokes. 

His news that night changed all that. He could still see her confused expression, her eyes widening as shocked tears filled them. Her voice, meek and sad, asking 'why', over and over.

But at twenty-three, he was still a boy in many ways. Immature and unsettled, he simply couldn't handle the information that her father had told him earlier that day. He just couldn't accept that she was….

He shook his head to clear his mind, opting instead to study the street. It had changed very little since then. Perhaps a bit more run down, dilapidated, dirtier, he supposed. Using his memory to serve him, he let himself be guided to the end of the street, and there….as if time stood still….was the dress shop. He motioned for the carriage to stop and he got out, taking a moment to straighten his suit before going to the door.

Jules has spent the past half hour telling Danielle of his earlier conversation with Erik as Evelyne frantically worked to sew some last minute beads and ribbons to a gown for Danielle to wear so she could continue to pretend to be Erik's wife.

Danielle was too frantic, afraid of being discovered, to listen to much of Jules's recollection of the conversation. She still was not, despite it all, very interested in hearing whether or not Erik was remorseful for his actions. After all, if it was not for him, Richard would not be on his way there now.

"I have it!" Evelyne declared, holding up the finished gown. "This may be the best I can do under the circumstances."

"Close enough!" Danielle grabbed the gown and ran behind the partition to change as Jules sat down and dabbed his worried forehead with a handkerchief.

"You did unlock the door again, right?" Evelyne asked him.

"Yes, of course." He reassured her.

"Good, if Monsieur Durand knew we had locked up the shop for even five minutes, much less nearly a half hour, he would just go insane…."

"Oh no!"

Both Evelyne and Jules jumped straight up when they heard Danielle scream.

"What is it?" Evelyne asked.

Danielle walked out from behind the partition, her arms out to her sides. The gown was obviously at least three sizes too big. It hung on her like a lovely, velvet burlap sack, terribly unbecoming of a high society lady. "This will not work! What am I going to do? There are no other gowns close to being altered!"

Evelyne put her hand to her mouth. "I did not know it was so large!"

Both women turned to Jules, who shrugged. He had no idea what to do next, all he could do was check his pocket watch and sigh, knowing Richard would arrive at any time.

Then they heard the door open outside.

Danielle threw a hand over her own mouth, inhaling sharply, feeling faint.

Jules stood and looked around. He could not be seen there.

Evelyne began to panic, "That has to be him, what do we do?"

Danielle gathered herself and took over then, surprising both Evelyne and Jules. "Continue the plan as usual, but instead….." she summoned both of them to her and told her what they should do next.

Richard walked around the shop, looking at the window display and the gowns that hung along the walls. He fingered the material, examined the lace, and became impatient by the minute. He moved to the counter and tapped his gloved fingers against the wood.

Finally, after another minute or so, Evelyne came out, wearing a smock, holding a handful of pins and looking rather flustered. "I apologize, Monsieur, I am in the middle of a fitting in the back, may I help you?"

"Is this Durand's dress shop?" Richard asked.

"Why, yes of course."

"I would like to speak to Danielle Durand, please." He said confidently, removing his gloves.

Evelyne pretended not to understand, "Monsieur?"

"Danielle Durand, please." He stated again, emphasizing each syllable slowly, patronizing her as if she spoke another language.

She groaned inwardly, annoyed by such rude behavior, "There is no one here by that name."

"Well, is Monsieur Durand here?"

"No, I am afraid he is out and I am not sure when he will return."

"And you are….?"

"Madame Piret, Monsieur Durand's seamstress." She bowed slightly.

"And there is no _Danielle_ Durand here?"

"I know no one by that name, I assure you and I have been working here five years."

He studied her closely, "That is Monsieur Durand's daughter."

Evelyne simply shrugged, but Richard was not convinced. He heard shuffling in the back room, the curtain rustling. Despite good taste, he headed that way, feeling certain that Danielle was back there, hiding. Perhaps she had heard him enter earlier, he figured.

"Monsieur, what are you doing?" Evelyne chased after him grabbing his arm, but he was too strong and cleanly shrugged her off.

He burst through the curtain to the back room where he found a woman standing on a small stool, her back to him, wearing a gown full of pins, her arms out to her sides.

Danielle could hear the commotion outside and knew that Richard would never leave without searching the shop. She stood still as she could, taking deep breaths after frantically pulling her hair back and securing it in a tight bun to hide as much of her strawberry blonde as possible. Besides, if she did not see Richard come in, she could keep her composure long enough to think. She felt him walk in and she looked down at Jules, who was sitting in the corner, pretending to be reading a newspaper. He shot her a confident glance and she played her part.

Mimicking his mother's phony, long drawn out impatient toned voice, she spoke, "Madame Piret? Is that you? We truly need to finish, my husband is expecting me home soon," Danielle slowly turned around and caught sight of Richard.

Richard gasped, then furrowed his brow, "Danielle?"

"Monsieur Dupré, what brings you to a dress shop? Does your wife require a new gown?" she gave a lighthearted laugh in the silliest way she could, just like the cackles of the women she had met the night before.

"Danielle, why are you doing this?"

Jules spoke up from the corner very monotone, "I do not believe you know Madame Renault well enough to be addressing her by her first name, Monsieur."

"It is alright, Jules." She replied with a gentle sweep of her hand, "We have been through this from the night before. He has mistaken me for another Danielle. From his past, I suspect."

"You told me your name was Michelle." He gawked, keeping his stance.

"Ah yes, my mistake actually. That is my last mother's name, a rather common name, you see. My given name is actually Daniella Marie Perrault Renault. My mother actually never liked Daniella with an A, but it was a family name, insisted upon by my Grandmother. She preferred calling me Danielle instead, without the A sound, you see. But Father, practically from the very beginning, started to call me Ella. And he did, until the day he died."

Richard snorted, his mind racing. Was he _truly_ wrong? Had eight years clouded his judgment? "May I ask, why are you…here?" he asked her as Evelyne came in and joined them.

"Finally, Madame Piret, shall we finish?" she pretended to be stuffy and irritated with Evelyne's procrastination before turning back to Richard. "What do you mean? Why would I not be here?"

"Your gown from last night was made by Madame Boudreaut, my mother told me. She has the finest shop in Paris, why are you _here_ getting a gown made and not _there_?"

"You see, Monsieur Dupré, I am not here to get a gown made, but simply to have one tailored. Over the past couple of years, I have lost a bit of weight and this gown was simply too big, gathering dust in my wardrobe. I wish to wear it tonight when my husband takes me out to dinner, so I came _here_ because they were not too busy and could do it in a short amount of time. And it appears that your interruption has delayed them even further. I do hope that clears up things for you, Monsieur Dupré, now if you will excuse me, Madame Piret has yet to sew a stitch, and it is getting late. Jules, could you show the kind man to the door?"

Jules stood but Richard held up his hand to stop him, "And who are you, Monsieur?"

"I am Jules Bernard, Monsieur Renault's personal assistant."

"And where is Monsieur Renault now? Having tea with the Vicomtess?" he sneered back, but neither Jules nor Danielle flinched, yet Danielle wished she could slap Richard for trying to incite her jealousy again.

"He is at home, awaiting his wife, so if you will be so kind…"

Richard backed away, throwing his hands up in a mock gesture of defeat, "I know my way out. Madame Renault, my apologies for disturbing you." He bowed slightly as Danielle nodded and said, "Monsieur."

Just as Richard exited the back room, Evelyne peeked out from behind to curtain to watch him leave, but suddenly, she turned right back around, her face pale.

"Danielle?" she ran over and grabbed her arm, whispering. "Your father's coming, I saw him cross the street."

Danielle too went pale and looked at Jules. "You have to hide!" Then she jumped off of the stool and ran to the partition to remove the gown.

Evelyne ran out into the shop just in time for Jean-Pierre to re-enter and run right into Richard. Jean-Pierre turned white as if he'd seen a ghost.

Richard smirked, recognizing the old man immediately, despite the gray hair and thin, drawn face.

"Monsieur Durand, it has been a long time." He addressed him warmly.

"Monsieur Dupré." Jean-Pierre nodded nervously as he sat his purchases down on the counter, "What brings you here?"

Now was Richard's chance. Perhaps he could make Jean-Pierre slip up. "I was here to see Danielle."

Jean-Pierre almost choked, "Danielle?" he asked, then spotted Evelyne peeking from behind the curtain. She shook her head emphatically, as if telling Jean-Pierre that Richard was lying.

"Uh, you must be mistaken, uh… Danielle is not here, not anymore." Jean-Pierre lied coolly.

"But I just saw her in the backroom." Richard protested.

Jean-Pierre suddenly looked helpless, he began to speak but was interrupted by Evelyne.

"Monsieur Durand…" she came to the counter and stopped. "It appears that Monsieur Dupré has mistaken one of our customers for your…daughter. A daughter I was not aware you had."

Jean-Pierre was unaware why Evelyne would help him out, but he gratefully played along. "A customer?"

"Yes, Madame Renault, she is in the backroom right now, I'm tailoring a gown for her."

_Renault?_

He had heard that name, but could not immediately recall where. "Madame Renault?"

"The wife of Monsieur Erik Renault. She tells me is he the principal investor of the Opera Garnier. A rather wealthy and powerful man, I must say." Evelyne informed him.

"And a murderer, arsonist, kidnapper…" Richard added with a grumble.

Jean-Pierre nodded. That is where he had heard the name, from The Époque over a year ago. He burned down the opera house. That brought more questions than answers. But he did know one thing, he wanted to meet his wife. Sucking up to her would surely bring in more business.

"I was unaware he had a wife." He said plainly.

"Yes, they have been married for about six months."

He started for the backroom, much to Evelyne's surprise.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

"I wish to meet her. Such a fine lady gracing our shop, it would be wrong of me not to introduce myself." He replied in a pleasant, matter of fact tone. Richard stood back and waited for the downfall. When he saw his own daughter, he knew he would be vindicated.

"No, no, Monsieur Durand, you do not understand…" she tried to catch his arm but he was already away from her. He burst inside the backroom, but saw no one.

His eyes scanned, "Is anyone here?" he called out.

Suddenly, he heard a woman's voice from behind the partition. "What are you doing back here? I am not decent!"

Jean-Pierre gasped, realizing the woman was undressed. He could see her shapely silhouette as the sunlight shined against the partition. He apologized profusely, "I am sorry! I just wanted to know if you were Madame Renault."

Danielle muffled her voice slightly, but continued in the same overstated manner which she had used with Richard, "Yes I am, and who are you?"

"I am Jean-Pierre Durand, the shop owner."

"Monsieur Durand, do you normally take such liberties with your other patrons?" she made herself sound completely shocked and insulted.

"No, of course not! Again, Madame, I apologize, please forgive me…" he started to back out, bowing and shaking his head.

He returned to the shop and looked at Richard, taking a deep breath. "A lovely woman, Madame Renault."

Richard looked as if he had been slapped. "You…you…met her?"

"Well, of course. She was in there and I introduced myself to her." He lied, not wanting Richard to know that he had walked in on a high society woman in a state of undress, behind a partition or not.

Evelyne could hardly believe it, but she took it as a good sign.

Richard shook his head, "If that is not Danielle in there, then where is she?"

Jean-Pierre looked at Richard straight in the eye and said, "She is dead."

Both Richard and Evelyne's mouths collectively dropped.

"Died? How?" Richard asked.

"Perhaps we should talk outside." Jean-Pierre took Richard by the arm and led him to the door.

When the door shut, Evelyne ran to the back. "Danielle!" she called out.

Danielle came out from behind the partition, fully clothed and with Jules close behind. "Has Richard gone?"

"Your father escorted him outside. Now is your chance, get upstairs." She told her.

Danielle looked over at Jules, who nodded at her and together, the two of them exited the backroom and ran upstairs as quickly as possible.

Only then did Evelyne reenter the shop, sinking into a chair behind the counter and sighing heavily.

* * *

Jean-Pierre walked Richard down to the Pont Neuf. Exasperated from the earlier events, he leaned against a stone pillar for support. 

"Now, tell me, what happened?" Richard prompted impatiently.

"She committed suicide, Monsieur." He told him plainly. "I wanted to tell you that in private because my seamstress does not know this. I had never told her about my late daughter."

Richard gasped in shock, "Suicide…how long ago?"

"Not long after you left Paris, probably a year or so." Jean-Pierre lied, hoping it would be enough to make Richard go away, and stay away this time.

"And the baby?"

For a moment, Jean-Pierre paused, studying Richard, wondering what he was talking about, but then it dawned on him. He'd almost forgotten the original lie he'd told Richard so many years ago to keep him and Danielle apart.

"Stillborn." He replied with a rather phony air of sadness.

Richard's eyes closed hard. _Stillborn…my child…._

He had been so sure that once he found Danielle and made her confess her true identity, that she would lead him to the whereabouts of his child. After all, Jean-Pierre had told him she planned on putting the child up for private adoption once he or she was born. Many years he had thought about his child, out there somewhere, not knowing him, not knowing the life he or she could have had as a Dupré. Although he knew he did right in marrying Catherine and leaving Paris, he regretted shucking his responsibility as a father. Regretted not waiting around to take the child himself, for he and Catherine to raise as their own. Now, when he realized he might be close to seeing his child for the first time, reality hits. He had nothing….no Danielle, and no child.

"Was it a boy or a girl?" Richard asked.

That was something Jean-Pierre did not expect. He stammered, "Uh, a boy."

Richard's face filled with such sadness that it made Jean-Pierre almost remorseful for his lie….almost.

"And no one knows of this…."

"No one knows anything about Danielle, it is just too…too painful, Monsieur.It was all kept secret, her death, her burial."

Richard simply nodded.

"So you see…there is nothing here now. Please, just leave me in peace."

"I am sorry for your loss, and sorry to have bothered you. I shall not return." Richard turned and slowly walked back to his carriage. Jean-Pierre watched the carriage disappear down the street before going back into the shop, finding Evelyne sitting down behind the counter, her head in her hands.

"Evelyne?" he spoke to her and her head flew up. "I do not know why you helped me out, but thank you."

"I do not understand everything either, and it is best if I do not ask. Sometimes I find it easier to remain ignorant of family matters." She replied, then asked, "Did you really see Madame Renault back there?"

He looked down, "Well, actually, no. She was behind the partition changing and I did not wish for Monsieur Dupré to know that.

Evelyne let out a very visible sigh of relief. "I see." They had banked that by hiding behind the partition, Jean-Pierre would not dare insist on seeing her. They were right.

"Where is Madame Renault now? I would love to truly meet her."

"Uh…she left. I could not finish her gown in time and she left while you were out with Monsieur Dupré."

He groaned, "So we lost a day's wage."

"Oh no. She paid me for my trouble. I did repair some laces and replaced some old ribbon." She pulled out a handful of francs that Danielle had slipped her, just in case. She handed them to Jean-Pierre.

"Oh." He scratched his head, "Such a shame she left. Well, perhaps another time. Now, where is Danielle?"

"Upstairs, finishing the lunch dishes."

Returning to the counter, his typical cold demeanor came over him again. "Well, get her sluggish self down here, she has work to finish."

* * *

Evelyne ran upstairs to find Danielle alone, washing the dishes, a bit flustered, but otherwise doing well. 

Much better than she was.

"Has father returned?" Danielle asked her as she placed the last of the dishes out to dry.

"Yes, and everything appears to be fine."

She let out a breath. "Why did Father react that way when Richard mentioned me?"

"I do not know, but it is a relief that he did not give you away, or everything would have been blown to pieces."

"Yes, I know." She sighed deeply, laying down her rag and leaning against the wall. "But Jules had assured me that if that had happened he was prepared to remove me from the shop…by force if he had to, to save me from injury. He told me Jacques was nearby and if he heard his name being called, he was to run in. He had a pistol in the carriage.

"Oh my…"

"Yes, but thank goodness it was not necessary."

"Where is Monsieur Bernard now?"

"He left out the window. He told me he would leave when I waved to him from up here that all was safe."

"Good. You had best do that now, then get downstairs now, your father is looking for you."

She smiled as she released her hair from the tight bun. "Of course he is."

* * *

The rest of the day was calm and uneventful. Danielle worked quietly in the backroom, never leaving to see anyone as they entered the shop, just as her father had instructed. She was careful to avoid speaking to him, unless absolutely necessary and nothing above a whisper until his recollection of Madame Renault's voice drained further and further from his mind. Yet, while she sewed, her own mind was full of questions. 

Why _did_ her father seem to panic at Richard's mention of her name? Was he so convinced that what she had done with Richard years go was so bad that it was better to tell him she was dead? That, she did _not_ understand. She surmised he had his own reasons, reasons that might very well be beyond her understanding. She could not dare ask those reasons. She had never asked much about the past. He would suspect something if she started now. The timing was wrong, easily giving away that she was at least witness to Richard being in the shop that day. That would surely lead to another round of scolding and possibly more physical violence. As he had told her many times before, it was not her place to question anything he did, past _or_ present. Period.

Dinner had gone well, better than expected, actually. She had served another warm baguette with their meal, prompting - after he had almost licked his plate clean, of course - a round of questions as to how they could suddenly afford bakery goods instead of just having homemade bread instead. Sensing the time was right, Danielle pulled out a handful of francs then from her pocket. Not all that was left, mind you, but enough to make her father's head spin. He demanded to know where she received such money. Surely, he thought, surely she had done something illegal…

"Tell me where you got such money, girl." He insisted a second time.

With confidence, she remembered the lie she was prepared to tell and said proudly, "From the time I spent with Michelle last night."

His eyes narrowed, regarding her curiously, "Michelle? She does not have this kind of money."

"Oh no, she does not, Father. But Madame Souvigny does." She paused and waited.

"Go on." He prompted, more and more irritated and waving his hand around. "I swear you talk so slow, girl."

"As you know, Michelle is Madame Souvigny's maid, but has not been able to do much work for her since she has been ill," she lied. "While I was there checking on Michelle, Madame Souvigny mentioned to me that she had some clothing she wished to have tailored. I did that for her, plus took the time to help straighten out and sort her winter wardrobe for her later that evening to prepare for her new spring wardrobe. She was most grateful and generous. Of course I insisted on not being paid such an extravagant amount, I know you always told me not to be greedy, but she insisted I take nothing less. She said it was small compensation for what I had done for her that day." She slid the money across the table to her father.

He took it and began counting it, then exclaimed, "There is nearly five hundred francs here!"

"More than that actually, Father. She paid me five hundred and fifty francs, the difference I spent at the market."

He took the money and threw it in his pocket, "I shall take this and put it in the can for safekeeping. It is not enough to pay the debts, but at least we shall eat well." He stood up then and Danielle breathed a sigh of relief at the satisfied look on her father's face. He started walking toward his bedroom as she started clearing the dishes.

Then he turned to her and said, "You might turn out be something decent after all."

She smiled at him as he entered his room and shut the door behind him. Yes, the comment stung, but strangely enough, she also took it as a compliment.

* * *

The gas lamp by her mother's favorite chair flickered as Danielle passed by after finishing the last of some sewing downstairs after dinner. She checked the clock. 

Nine o'clock. Time had passed quickly, thank goodness. She had checked on her father earlier before going down to the shop, only to find him sleeping soundly, passed out from brandy no doubt, a lit cigar dangling from his fingers. She shook her head as she removed it, setting it into the small ashtray.

Returning to the sitting room, she sat down in her mother's favorite chair and sighed, resting her back, rubbing her tired eyes. Not tired enough to sleep just yet, she rose and walked to the small shelf by the window and looked through the books. She decided to open the window, allowing some air into the small room before stoking the fire in the small fireplace. The air was unusually mild for that time of year, the snow having melted days ago and was fresh and brisk, yet still cool enough to require the warmth and comfort of a blanket and hot cup of tea.

The few books she had, she must have read a hundred times before, but one book in particular, a book of poetry, one of the books she had taken with her to Erik's, was her favorite. She had returned it earlier that morning after unpacking her bag. Again, she picked it up. Yes, she would read it, read it and think of her. Alone.

She had no more than sat down a mere five minutes, her book open on her lap, then she felt the urge to sing one of her mother's favorite songs. Gently, almost a whisper, she began to sing…

_I…follow…the night…._

_Can't stand…the light…_

_When will I begin…to live…again?_

Erik had stood on the fire escape after following her upstairs. Initially, he had opted to enter the shop while she sewed, but crazy enough, had lost his nerve. He had spent hours going over in his mind what he wanted to say to her after Jules had filled him in on the events that had transpired earlier in the day. He wanted to thank her for helping him, to beg her to return, yet all he could do was watch her, his long black cape flapping in the slight night's breeze.

Now, as he peeked inside her window, her voice carried out to him. No, it was not operatic by any means, yet it was soft and heart filled and he found himself closing his eyes, allowing himself to take it all in.

_One day I'll fly away….leave all this to…yesterday._

_What more could your love do for me…_

_When will love be….through with me…_

The lyrics he did not recognize, but they were nonetheless moving, and so telling. He felt she did truly wish for love, wish to escape her troubles…her past.

_Why live life, from dream to dream…_

Her voice increased in intensity and volume, then suddenly was soft again.

…_and dread the day when dreaming….ends…_

With a sigh and an irrelevant laugh, she stopped singing, too melancholy to continue.

"Danielle…." Erik spoke softly, using his skills to send his voice in the air as he remained in the shadows.

Her head flew up, eyes squinting as she concentrated. It was so soft, that voice… she was almost unsure she'd even heard it at all. Rustling of the trees in the wind perchance, she thought, but in glancing out the window, she could see the trees were not moving.

"Hearing things…" she mumbled, picking up her book again.

"You have a moving voice…."

This time she knew it was no illusion. "Who is there?"

Silence.

"I said, who is there?" she asked again, more insistent.

"I have missed you." Erik whispered, this time with no embellishments.

She gasped. _Erik_… "Where are you? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Show yourself." She said with an inward groan. She _did_ want to see him, see his beautiful eyes behind the glowing mask, pressing herself against his strong body that she loved when they kissed. At the same time, she didn't want to see him for those very same reasons.

From the shadows, he stepped forward just slightly, enough to allow his mask to be barely illuminated from the gas lamp inside the sitting room. That, added with the moonlight from the clear night sky, was enough for her to see him.

And enough to make her heart skip a beat.

"Why…why did you come here?" she stammered.

"To beg for your forgiveness." He answered.

"I do not know if…"

"Please, let me say what I came to say, then I shall leave. If you never wish to see me again, I will understand."

She nodded. She could give him that much.

"I was a fool, Danielle," he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "a fool for leaving you alone last night. No true gentleman would have done such an unforgivable thing as I did to you. When I saw Christine again after a year, I saw my past. I saw what could have been…and with that, I lost sight of what I actually had, right before my eyes."

He paused, waiting for her reaction.

"And what do you have?"

"I have you, Danielle."

"Correction, Monsieur Renault. _Had_."

That hurt. He swallowed hard, but continued. "I am sorry that you had to face Richard Dupré alone. Truly, I am rather upset and angry that he has harrassed you so and I still entertain the thought of paying him a private visit to express just that."

"It is of no concern of yours now. He has gone and I doubt he will return."

"But you are my wife and he must know he stepped out of line."

"I am not your wife, Erik."

"But Monsieur Dupré does not know that. He has been convinced otherwise by your…shall I say, expert performance today."

That brought a smile to her face. "You know what happened then."

"Yes, Jules relayed the information to me." He told her.

She smiled slightly, "Of course."

He also smiled, proud of her for the courage and tenacity she showed in the face of what must have been a frightening situation. "I have to say, I was very impressed with the way you thought on your feet."

"I did not know I still had it in me to do such things. I used to, you know. I used to be able to lie with the best of them, could convince the devil himself that the sky was green….I…" she stopped, then said softly, "I suppose that is not very lady like."

He smiled softly, then answered, "It only makes me admire you that much more. As I said last night, you are truly a lady, no matter what anyone might think, or say."

She exhaled, "Thank you."

A long pause fell, both could hear the other breathe, their minds searching for the right words to say.

But if Erik knew one thing, it was that he could not stand being so far away he could not touch her, "Come to the window, Danielle."

"I do not think…."

"Please…come to the window." His voice was pleading, floating around her like a fog, almost lifting her up from the chair.

She rose and walked slowly to the window, but stayed close to the safety of the bookshelf.

Erik could see her more clearly now, saw her eyes glistening from the light of the gas lamp, her hair blowing softly with the night's breeze. He reached out and touched her arm, his fingers just grazing her skin, moving upward slowly. "Why did you help me today?"

She gripped the bookcase for stability as her skin tingled under his touch. "What do you mean?"

_Please, do not touch me like that….for God's sake…_

"I mean…why did you help me? You could have confessed all to Richard, cleared your conscience. After all, you said our association was over…"

"Jules came to me, told me Richard was on his way…I…I had to help." Her words failed her. She wanted to tell him so much… "No matter what, I knew Richard would expose you as a fraud if I did not do something to stop it. I knew the Dupré's were investors in the opera house…they could force you out by scandal…"

"They could, but it was no concern of yours anymore. You had left me; you could have betrayed me to him. So again, I ask you. Why did you help me?" His fingers moved gently from her arm to her cheek, stroking the delicate skin of her cheekbone.

"Because….because I would not have been able to live with myself if anything happened to you." She blurted out meekly, her resolve gone. There, she said it.

_What are you thinking? You stupid fool!_

His eyes softened, a slow smirk forming across his lips, "Because you still care for me."

"Yes."

"Because you have feelings for me, strong feelings…the same feelings I feel for you."

She paused and Erik held his breath.

_Dear God, help me_…Finally, with a whimper, she answered, "Yes."

His thumb brushed her bottom lip as he whispered, "Thank you, Danielle."

Her eyes closed as she fell against the bookcase, unable to speak or put together a thought.

"Please…reconsider returning to me…I await your answer…." He said.

She felt the sudden brush of his lips on her neck and she gasped, her eyes flying open. She turned sharply, only to find him gone.

"Erik?" she flew to the window, throwing her head out and looking around. He had seemingly disappeared into the night. Disappointed, she pulled herself inside the window, lowering it.

Her cheek still tingled from his now absent caress; her neck ached for his lips to taste her once again. Her body screamed in betrayal, begging him to return, cursing her for her defiance, fighting the feelings he brought out in her. No, she did not like that she almost succumb to him.

Not one bit.

* * *

**A/N: YEAH! It appears that is fixed for now and I can update! I posted two chapters to catch up, so I hope everyone enjoys them.**

**Btw, the song Danielle was singing, if you didn't already know, was "I'll Fly Away,"from Moulin Rouge. I love that song! It just seemed appropriate for the story. I tried with all my might to actually find lyrics to any of the arias of Le Prophete, but with no luck. I truly wanted to add them into the story as well. -sigh- C'est la vie...**


	15. Chapter 15

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Fifteen:

Three days had past and everything started to return to normal at Durand's dress shop. Danielle remained quiet, sewing by herself in the backroom or spending the afternoons instructing Nathalie, while Evelyne and Jean-Pierre dealt with the customers in the shop. Danielle had not heard any word from Erik since that night at the window, and although she hated not being around him, she felt she hadn't been totally abandoned. Working upstairs in her apartment, cleaning in the late afternoons, she could easily see out the window as Jacques would drive by at least once during that day. It was almost becoming routine. She would always wave and he would wave back, but whether or not the carriage was empty, she never knew. In the end, she figured it didn't really matter…at least Erik had not forgotten about her.

In the meantime, Erik had been keeping his promise to allow Danielle to come to him, yet he was not totally staying away. At night…late at night….he would find himself at the fire escape, standing by Danielle's window, watching her sleep. The ensuing days since the last time he saw her had turned bitterly cold again, thus forcing Danielle to keep her window closed tight. He hated viewing her through the frosty glass, admiring her sleeping form instead of touching her. He watched the thin, worn bed coverings hug her curves, picturing her sleeping instead in his own bed, warm and sated under his plush, burgundy velvet coverlet. Her chest rising and falling with each soft breath, her hair smooth as silk and fanned out across the red silk pillowcase.

When his body would finally give out, the longing too much, he would return home…alone.

During the day, however, to distract himself from the temptation of visiting Danielle at her shop, he took to spending time in the Opera House, keeping to himself in the shadows watching rehearsals and especially Christine, closely.

Today however had been, by far, the worst. Christine was growing more and more obnoxious by the minute. He watched patiently as Monsieur Reyer had to restart her main aria six times because she could not reach the right notes. She sounded flat in spots, and just hoarse in others. She found her leading man, a fine tenor from Spain named Roderick Deluca, to be dull and boring, lacking the passion and fire to play Jean de Leyden to her Berthe. More than once she stopped him, criticizing his Spanish accented French. Roderick remained patient, but Monsieur Reyer did not.

"Vicomtess, please, we must at least get through this aria!" he called to her from the orchestra pit.

Groaning, she continued on, still distracted and unable to keep her mind on the opera. More and more, chatter rose around Christine. She saw them and started wringing her hands in frustration as she glared at them, yet they never appeared to pay her any mind. Finally, in a fit of anger, she screamed out to the whole theatre, "That is it! I know I sound awful, so you can all stop your snivelling little remarks! There is no one who can help me!" Then she threw down her sheet music and cried, "I want my Angel of Music!"

A collective gasp fell over the whole ensemble cast, everyone looking around, some not even sure who she was referring to.

But Erik knew.

He stood up from his back row hiding place, gripping the seat in front of him hard. He'd seen and heard quite enough. "Stop whining like a child, Christine, and I shall help you." He called back, causing another round of gossiping chatter.

Christine gasped, stepping forward and shielding her eyes to see off the stage. Erik slowly walked down the long aisle towards her and her eyes lit up, a smile of relief crossing her lips. He was there, he had been watching!

"Please Erik! Please help me, I sound horrible, I …" she pleaded as he walked up on stage.

He took her shoulders to calm her down, "You temper is unacceptable, as are your manners. Yes, your voice is bad, Christine, but if you listen to me, perhaps I can get you through the rest of rehearsals today, but only if you stop your incessant snivelling." He said indifferently. He had to steady himself, distance himself as he looked into her soft, innocent eyes, the eyes that had captured him so many times. But his mind went to Danielle. No, he would not ruin this a second time.

"That will not be necessary, Monsieur Renault…" a voice called out from the side stage. Both Erik and Christine turned to see Raoul approaching, "I am sure I can find a suitable tutor for my wife."

Erik let go of Christine's shoulders and nodded. "I do not care who tutors the Vicomtess, just as long as she is ready for the inauguration." He said plainly. Christine looked at him, shocked. She did not want just any tutor.

"But…" she began, but Raoul cut her off with his hand.

"I will check with Monsieur René, I am sure he would be more than happy to come here and…"

"I do not like Monsieur René, Raoul, he is…" she interrupted sharply.

"He is the best tutor in Paris." He replied to her, his tone becoming more and more patronizing. "Christine, for the sake of the opera, please let me handle this…"

Finally, Christine had enough, "I do not want Monsieur René! I want Erik!" she screamed angrily and rather loudly. So loud, in fact, that both Erik and Raoul took a step back.

Christine blushed, realizing what she had said. "Umm, what I mean is, for my tutor of course." She laughed a bit nervously, then turned serious again.

Raoul looked at Erik and Erik looked at Christine. It was almost as if what happened a year ago had just occurred yesterday. And Erik didn't like the way it felt. For that matter, neither did Raoul.

"Again, handle it the way you wish, Vicomte, but today, I shall instruct her." He said with a tone of finality that the Vicomte did not like.

"Is this what you really want, Christine?" Raoul asked her.

"Yes, it is what I want."

"Well, of course." Raoul replied, then snorted. He turned on his heels and left. The discussion was over.

Over the next two hours, Christine and Erik worked alone on stage, going over every aspect of the opera, start to finish. He was critical, relentless and harsh, but Christine never said a word in protest, knowing it was exactly what she needed. By the time afternoon rehearsals arrived, she was ready to continue.

Erik left her alone, returning to his backrow hiding place. Immediately he saw a positive change in her performance, albeit not an overwhelming one. She _was_ more confident in her movements and she did not miss one cue, note or line. She still sounded raw, had trouble hitting the higher notes or holding them when need be, but she never uttered one complain. He finally exhaled. She had not thrown one fit of anger. Tomorrow, he would allow Raoul to bring in Monsieur René. All she needed was some proper tutoring and discipline.

At least that's what he thought.

* * *

Later that evening, so late in fact that Emma had grown a bit worried, Erik came walking in, his head low, his jacket in his arm, sleeves rolled up. He was beyond exhausted. So exhausted that he knew he would sleep once his head hit the pillow.

_Too tired_, his mind scolded him, _to even visit Danielle._

Emma, now in her bed cloak, looked down over the balcony as he started up the long staircase. "Monsieur, you are later than usual coming for the opera house, are you alright?"

"Tea, please." Was all he said before passing her and going down the long corridor to his bedroom.

Emma's face frowned, wanting to ask further, but she dared not. Instead, she ran down to the kitchen to make his tea.

Erik slumped down onto the bed, shaking his head. The events of the past few hours had left him exhausted and anxious. He removed his mask, allowing the cool air to hit his uncovered face as he fell back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. His conscious tried in vain to figure out how he was going to get out of the jam he now found himself in.

_Tired now…think tomorrow_…he sighed deeply as his eyes closed.

He had just dozed off slightly when several quiet minutes later, Emma knocked on the door.

"Your tea, Monsieur." She said softly.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, "Enter."

She came in and was momentarily stunned seeing Erik there without the mask, something he simply never did. She swallowed hard, entered further into the room, and could see his bloodshot eyes and prominent five o'clock shadow on closer inspection. She sat the tea down on the small table by his bed and looked down at him. "I was becoming worried when you did not show on time." She told him.

He looked up and smiled at her motherly demeanor. "I am fine, Emma, thank you for the tea."

He rubbed his tired eyes and that was when he realized he had not replaced his mask. He placed his hand over this disfigured cheek with a groan. "Bloody hell." He looked at Emma and spoke softly, "My apologies, I had forgotten that I had removed it. I hope I did not offend you."

She smiled, "No, Monsieur, of course not. It simply caught me off guard, you do not normally…." She gestured to the mask.

"Of course." He picked up the mask and examined it. "I was feeling rather sore and so I removed it." He made the move to put it back on his face, but Emma stopped him.

"No, Monsieur, leave it off." She noted a few very red marks that looked unusual. Blisters, she surmised. "It appears you have worn a couple of bad places."

He touched his cheek and agreed, "You are correct. I wore it too long today, I am afraid."

"You have neglected many things in the past couple of days, Monsieur, including the care of your face." She spoke abruptly but considerately and hoped she had not overstepped her bounds.

"Yes, I have, unfortunately."

"I have some ointment for that, allow me to get it for you." She did not give him any time to protest before she was out the door.

He sighed and waited, too tired to argue.

When she returned a few minutes later, she had some ointment, gauze and a bowl of water with her, which she sat down on the small table.

He did not fight it when she stood in front of him and began to tend his face. He was, however, a bit shocked that she appeared to show no sign of disgust. Shocked, and grateful.

"You were rather late this evening, Monsieur. I hope all is well at the opera house." She said pleasantly as she dabbed a wet rag over his bad cheek. The cool water made him hiss through clenched teeth, but she continued nonetheless. Truly, she loved it. She missed having a child around to tend to. She needed to feel…well, needed. And without a doubt, although Erik might be her employer, she cared for him very much. He needed a woman's touch, a wife's touch…Danielle's touch, she hoped wistfully. And if not, he at least needed a _mother_.

He opened his mouth to say everything was fine, but truly, he wanted to get it out, if anything to just sort in his mind what had happened and, more importantly, to deal with it. And Emma, being a woman of good sense, would listen.

"There has been a snag with the production of Le Prophète tonight."

"A snag, Monsieur?"

He nodded as he took a sip of tea while Emma re-soaked her rag. The hot liquid burned his throat on the way down. It felt excellent. "Yes," he continued, "there was a fire…"

Emma gasped, but he held up his hand, "…a small fire, but nonetheless, it has destroyed the majority of the scenery backdrop and a few of the costumes."

"How did it start?"

"The stage manager believes that someone placed a costume too close to one of the candles backstage and it ignited everything. Everyone was on stage, so by the time the fire was detectable; it had consumed much of the scenery. The artist's paints were stored there also, very flammable."

"Oh my, I hope no one was hurt." She began to clean his face again.

"Thankfully no, and the fire was contained rather quickly after detection. The snag is that it will take a few days, if not more, to redo the scenery. Luckily there were more costumes, so those will not have to be re-sewn. It throws the rehearsals back and we simply cannot afford to have anymore delays."

"So where does that leave the Vicomtess? Has she improved at all?" she asked.

"Only today did she improve after I…tutored her."

Emma gasped, "You said you would not do that."

Erik spoke up defensively, "I know I said that, but I had no choice, she would not listen to anyone else!" he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. "That is not the worst of it. She implicitly refuses any other tutoring than mine. She begged me to tutor her privately while the repairs are being done. And not at the opera house…..oh no…too much noise, she says. She wants to come here. Here! To my home." He stared at her, looking utterly helpless.

Emma dipped the rag once more, "Oh my. What will you do, Monsieur?"

"I have no choice, Emma. For the sake of the production, I must tutor her." He shook his head.

"And what about Mademoiselle Danielle?" she asked cautiously.

Her name made him inhale sharply, almost hissing. He missed her terribly. He wanted to show her that he could put all thoughts of Christine out of his mind, that all he wanted now was for the two of them to start again, slowly, no deception, no secrets…no bloody arrangements. Now, he would be bringing in Christine to his home. The very thought, just a mere month ago, would have delighted him. Now it filled him with dread. "I do not know what to do. I thought perhaps I would tell Christine that Danielle was in Boscherville visiting her family."

"You could, Monsieur." She replied, knowing he did not want to do that.

"But truly, I do not want to be alone with Christine."

"Because you still care for the Vicomtess?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes. But you must understand, for so long I had thought of nothing but her. I wondered where she was, how she was doing, if she was happy. Now she is here…within my grasp, here for the taking and I…."

"You find you truly do not wish to rekindle anything with her."

"All I find…all I really _wish_ to do is have Danielle come back here, to continue being my wife." He said softly, then winced when Emma began dabbing ointment on his blisters.

She smiled, but continued, "Then ask her. If you explain the situation, then perhaps…"

"After all that I have done, the party…no, she would not."

Emma stopped and looked at him, "Monsieur, she cares for you. She's hurt, yes, but in time, that will heal itself. Ask her to come, but allow her the space she needs to deal with what she's feeling. This is all so unfamiliar and no one can sort out her emotions for her. But here, with you, where she can be free to do as she pleases, I feel it would help her. And help you also."

He inhaled deeply. She made sense. Again.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that."

That made her heart light. "Then, again, I ask you, what are you going to do?"

He smiled with a soft sigh, "Jules and I will go for her tomorrow."

* * *

Eight o'clock that following morning found Madame Dupré alone in her sitting room just after breakfast, thinking about Richard. He and Catherine had been due to leave for home within the hour, but the night before, he'd mentioned nothing about it. In fact, he'd barely spoken three words in as many days. She had even gone so far as to consult Catherine, but she was also apparently in the dark and chose not to push him for an explanation, instead opting to tend to the children and let Richard decide what he wanted to do.

That made Madame Dupré wince. Catherine had no backbone, never did. She was the perfect epitome of "lady like" behavior. Although at first she thought it was exactly what Richard needed to get himself away from the wild and unbecoming ways of Danielle Durand, now she grew to hate it. At least Danielle was no wallflower.

She preferred to keep out of her son's business, but his behavior since the cocktail party and his apparent discovery of Danielle Durand resurfacing simply had her on edge. Surely, Richard did not still have feelings for that girl, not after so many years.

She shook her head, thinking back on the party and meeting Madame Renault. No, she shook her head, the woman he had met was lovely, disciplined…a woman of obvious class. She could not be the Danielle Durand she remembered.

She thought back to their one and only meeting. How Danielle, in a low cut and thin sundress, came bouncing into their home, gawking like she had never seen anything so elegant. She was loud, always laughing at her husband's inappropriate dirty jokes, something a real lady would have been offended to hear. But not Danielle. She had not just laughed at them, but told a few of her own! She did have table manners, she recalled, and she knew how to dance rather divinely, but her demeanor was simply…uncivilized. She told Richard later that evening, after he had returned, that Danielle was simply not suitable for a wife. That is when she found Catherine, a girl that Richard had courted in school. Soon, Richard came to her and informed her that Danielle was pregnant with his child. She could have fainted! Richard had panicked, saying he didn't want a child, nor the scandal that went with it. That night, he ended his relationship with Danielle and a week later married Catherine and moved from Paris. End of trouble. At least, until now.

She was helpless, all she could do was wait and wonder.

"Good morning, Mother." Richard said when he entered the sitting room holding a cup of coffee.

Her head flew up, her eyes wide. He was speaking. "Well, good morning, son. You seem…a bit more talkative today."

He sat down on the couch and sighed, "I apologize for my foul mood, I just needed to sort out a piece of rather unsettling news. I am better now."

She leaned in towards him, "What news is that?"

"I had gone a few days ago to Durand's dress shop to find Danielle."

She held her breath. Could he have found out after all that Madame Renault was an imposter? "And?"

"It appears that Madame Renault is legitimate."

"How did you find this out?"

"She was in the dress shop having a gown altered. I spoke with her. She is the spitting image of Danielle, Mother."

She exhaled, "I see," then paused and studied him. "But, you do not appear to be totally convinced she is _not_ Danielle."

"I was sure it was her, but after Jean-Pierre arrived, he saw Madame Renault himself, then he told me something…."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me Danielle was dead."

Her hand flew to her mouth, "Oh my! Dead?"

"Yes. Committed suicide about a year after I married. Did you hear anything about that? Recall anything about a suicide in the Époque?" he asked her.

"It was so long ago, son, but no. Surely if I read her name listed as dead, I would have told you immediately. You did the right thing by ending it with her, son, but I knew you still cared, I would not have kept that from you."

"That's what Jean-Pierre told me, that he kept it private." He sat pensively for a few moments. He debated whether to actually tell his mother that the reason he was seeking Danielle was solely to find his child. She would be most displeased. She had chosen to pretend that any bastard child of his simply did not exist, even though he had told her before he married Catherine that the child would be put up for adoption. Besides, it did not matter anyway. If Danielle was truly dead as her father had said, then so was the child. He chose not to mention the child's death.

Yet, he still needed closure. He wanted to visit Danielle's grave, to tell her how sorry he had been for not being there when she needed him the most. For choosing society over love. "I do not plan on going home today, Mother." He informed her.

"Oh?"

"No, I am going to find where Danielle is buried, and visit her. I want to say a proper goodbye. Then tomorrow, Catherine, the children and I will go home and forget everything."

Madame Dupré smiled, relieved. Nothing wrong with visiting a grave. "I think that is sensible son. Do you know where she's buried?"

"No, and I had promised not to return to Jean-Pierre again, so I will simply search on my own. I know her mother is buried in le Père Lachaise cemetery, so it would make sense that she would be buried there also, probably close to her, possibly unmarked, considering the manner of her death. That is the first place I plan on checking. The cemetery would have records, unmarked grave or not."

Madame Dupré stood up and patted his shoulder, deciding it was best to leave him alone. The relief she felt was almost audible as she exited the sitting room.

He relaxed then, sat back and began to read the paper with a smile. His first smile in three days.

* * *

Taking a short break from her sewing, Danielle sat down by the fireplace to drink her tea before her father returned to the shop. He was prone to taking an hour or so after lunch to just disappear, yet she never asked where he went and he never volunteered to tell her. She surmised he met a lady friend nearby, considering every time he returned, he smelled slightly of perfume and cigar smoke. Mostly, she chose not to think about it, just deciding instead to relish in the time she had to herself.

The carriage pulled in front of the side street facing Danielle's upper window and stopped. Jacques waited while the door opened and Jules exited. He turned to look back into the carriage.

"Are you sure you do not wish to accompany me, Monsieur?"

"No, not unless she asks for me." Erik replied, "Jacques will watch for any signal."

"Of course, Monsieur, but there is no guarantee she will come with me now." He shrugged his shoulders.

"I know, but we must try."

Jules nodded and closed the carriage door.

* * *

Danielle had stood up by the time Jules made it to the fire escape and was going towards the kitchen to finish the lunch dishes.

"Psssssst….." he made the noise from outside the sitting room window, tapping on the glass.

She turned with a startled jump, then saw him. She ran to the window and opened it for him. "Get inside here, Jules, you shall catch your death!" she said as she pulled him inside.

"Thank you, Danielle, it is rather cold out there today…especially up high where the wind blows harder." He shivered, then went to the fireplace and removed his gloves to warm up.

"Let me make you some tea." She said as she went for the kitchen again, grateful he was there, she wanted to ask about Erik.

"No, but thank you, I cannot stay long enough, the carriage is waiting and surely Jacques will freeze if I remain here longer than necessary."

She turned back towards him and walked over to the small couch in front of the fireplace, gesturing for him to join her, "Then, what brings you here?"

He sat down and faced her, smiling, but it was obvious to Danielle, his visit was not totally social. "We have a bit of a problem. Well, I shouldn't say we, but Erik. He has a problem."

"Yes?" she waited patiently, sucking in a breath at the mention of his name.

He proceeded to tell her everything. That Erik had been spending time at the Opera House, the problems with Christine's voice, his subsequent decision to tutor her the day before, the setback in rehearsals….

…and Christine's request.

She listened intently, her mind trying to take it all in before she replied.

"So, what you are telling me is that the Vicomtess only wants Erik to tutor her and she wishes for it to be at his home instead of the Opera House?"

He nodded.

Her heart sank at the very idea. She became indifferent rather than letting Jules see her jealousy, "So let him tutor her. What does all this have to do with me?"

He raised his brow and studied her, "It appears that in order to continue fooling everyone that the two of you are married, you will need to move in to Erik's home. After all, it would not do well for Christine to not see you there, it will raise suspicions."

"I do not know, Jules, after everything that happened…..I mean, he says he does not want the Vicomtess, but having her around…..he might…."

"I can assure you, his interest in Christine is simply professional. She chose to have no understudy and it is simply too late to find one. She refuses any other tutors. For the sake of the inauguration, he must tutor her."

She turned away. "He can say I am away. Visiting family, perhaps."

Jules smiled gently, "Yes, he could, but I believe you know that he does not wish that. And neither do you."

"Jules, please do not pretend that you know what I am thinking, or wishing…."

"But I do. Besides, the thought of Christine being around Erik, in his home, alone…it makes you jealous beyond comprehension."

She opened her mouth to protest, but she could not. He was right, the very idea that Christine would be near Erik anywhere made her wince inside. It was the most insane of thoughts, after all, hadn't they only known each other just over a week? True, but for Danielle, it had been the most intense and exciting week of her life.

Still, despite her need to keep the Vicomtess in check, the fact remained that she could not get past what he had done at the party, the way he looked at Christine, spoke to her, the way his eyes simply glazed over in her very presence. How did she know that he would not be that way again? And worse, she would have to endure it under the same roof!

"Of course I understand the importance of lost wages if you were not there, Erik assures me that you would be compensated enough for the shop to continue in your absence."

"I see." She should have been offended by the offer, with the assumption that she would only be interested in money, but she was not. It was good business sense and Erik was, if anything, an excellent business man. But, money was not her driving force this time, jealousy was, and she was not ready to give in to either just yet.

"If you agree, you can pack and we can leave quickly, before your father returns." Jules prompted.

"No." she answered flatly. "I will not be rushed into such a decision."

"But, Danielle…"

"When is the Vicomtess expected at Erik's home?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"I see. Well, until such time as I make a decision either way, inform Erik that he can tell the Vicomtess that I am in Boscherville visiting my Aunt Marie." She told him with such authority that she slipped from being Danielle to Madame Renault. He liked her tone, even if he did not like her decision.

"Of course." He said as he rose and put on his gloves. He knew better not to argue further.

She stood with him. "Please give Emma, Lacie and Jacques my best."

"I shall, and Erik will await your answer soon." He replied as he headed to the window and exited.

Danielle could only stare, shaking her head. Time, she thought, all she needed was time to think.

* * *

"I apologize profusely, Madame, I do not understand how the seam was sewn so inadequately, but I shall have it fixed immediately. Please, have a seat, I promise it will not take long."

"It better not." Madame Gaston sneered, smelling a lingering stench of brandy on him as he spoke. "I would be most upset if I had to take it elsewhere to be finished."

Jean-Pierre looked at her, nodding as he took the small gown that had been sewn for her young daughter, gesturing to the long couch in the back. "That will not be necessary I assure you. Make yourself comfortable, I shall have Evelyne make you a cup of tea while you wait." He said before running to the backroom. He was embarrassed and Danielle was not going to escape the wrath of his anger.

Danielle, Evelyne and Nathalie had been sewing in the back for over an hour after she returned from upstairs. Long enough for her to relay the story to Evelyne about Erik's dilemma.

Evelyne could not believe that Danielle had turned down the offer.

"You need the extra money." She told her.

Danielle groaned as she continued to sew, "Yes, I know but…I mean I would feel like…an employee."

"But isn't that what this arrangement was to begin with? You being an employee?" she whispered away from Nathalie.

She could only shrug in response. She was not in the mood to explain in depth her true feelings, especially not in front of Nathalie.

Suddenly, Jean-Pierre burst through the curtain, his face curled and hard with anger. He threw the gown onto the table and growled at her, "What is the meaning of this?"

Danielle looked up and regarded her father's anger with surprise and curiosity. He'd practically ignored her over the past days. "I do not understand…"

"This!" he picked up the small gown, showing her the obvious crooked hem, sewn rather sloppily. He threw it at her, hitting her in the face.

Both Evelyne and Nathalie gasped in surprise.

Danielle grimaced as she calmly examined the garment. It was the gown that she had allowed Nathalie to sew by herself. She realized in her haste that she had not gone behind and checked her work.

"See? What has gotten into you? You mope around here, hardly speaking, and then you mess up a customer's gown?" he got in her face. "I swear, girl, you become more and more useless by the day!"

Although his words hurt, this time, she did not cower, nor shed a tear. "I shall fix the hem immediately." She simply said, reaching for her sewing kit.

"Monsieur Durand…please….it is my fault, I sewed the hem!" Nathalie cried. "Please do not be angry with Danielle!" He shot her a glance.

"You? Why are you being allowed to sew customer gowns unsupervised?" he asked, his tone a bit more level, but still angry.

Evelyne stood in front of her daughter defensively, "I allowed her Jean-Pierre. It is my fault, I should have inspected her work before it went out. I will repair the hem."

Danielle stood and faced down Jean-Pierre. No longer would she allow anyone to take blame for her mistakes. "Do not listen to them, they are protecting me. I supervised Nathalie, but did not make the final inspection. Therefore…" she glared at Evelyne who was pleading with her eyes to stop, knowing it would not help, "I shall take full responsibility and make the repairs."

He did not like that she stood in his face, nor the way she spoke to him. He shoved her hard back into the chair. "Listen to me and listen good. Remember your place and never take a tone like that with me again."

Danielle narrowed her eyes, knowing she had done no such thing, but she was now about to. "I took no disrespectful tone with you, Father. I told you that I shall repair the gown, and I shall. Now, if you will excuse us, we have sewing to do and your berating of me is causing further delays."

"You little…" He snorted, but she did not flinch. She did flinch, however, when he reached behind him and removed an old belt strap from the shelf. "How dare you speak to me that way!" Her eyes widened.

"No, Jean-Pierre!" Evelyne ran to him and grabbed his arm as Nathalie cried out. "This is not necessary, she is just tired, speaking out of turn. She has been up for hours, sewing before dawn, she does not know what she's saying!" she pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

Danielle stood and began to run but Jean-Pierre grabbed her before she could move a foot away. "Tired huh?" he laughed. "Let us see how tired you become when you have to sew a hem standing up, for it will be a long time before you will be able to sit upon your backside after I am finished with you, you worthless piece of…." He raised his hand high, the strap ready to descend upon her body.

Danielle screamed defiantly, "No!" and struggled against his grasp while Evelyne sent Nathalie from the back room, telling her to run and hide, hoping she would not see anything that was about to transpire.

But Nathalie did not hide. She ran out into the shop, only to find it empty, Madame Gaston long gone after hearing the angry words spoken earlier. Frantic to find someone to help, she ran outside and immediately spotted a black carriage parked less than a block down the street, close to the Pont Neuf. Outside of the carriage stood two men, both nicely dressed. The first man she noticed, of course, wore a white mask. The same man she had heard Danielle talk about to her mother over the previous few days. Yes! This man would help Danielle! She ran for them as fast as she could go.

Jacques was sitting at the top of the carriage as he had for the past hour, waiting as Erik and Jules stood nearby, planning on another way to convince Danielle to go with them. He was snuggling under his warm coat, rubbing his hands while reading when the frantic cries of a young girl caught the men's ears.

"Help! Help, Messieurs!" she cried as she reached the carriage. Quick as lightning, Jacques jumped down and grabbed her. "What is wrong?"

"My friend! She is going to be beaten! Beaten, Monsieur! Please help!" she was so hysterical, she could hardly breath, much less speak.

"Calm down, your friend is going to be beaten, you say?" Jules asked her from behind, assuming she meant another young girl like herself.

"Yes! yes!" she cried, "My mother tired to stop him but he would not listen."

"Where?"

"Down here, at the dress shop!" she cried and all three men immediately tensed up.

"Danielle?" Erik asked her, "is it Danielle?"

"Yes! Please help her!"

"Wait here!" Jacques told her as he ran into the carriage and removed the pistol from behind a small hidden compartment under the seat. He returned and said, "I'll go get her!"

"No! That bloody bastard!" Erik screamed as he took the gun from Jacques, "I shall kill him!"

He started towards the shop, but Jules grabbed him first. "No, Monsieur! This cannot be the way, let us handle it!" he gave the gun back to Jacques and the three of them ran for the shop.

Over and over Jean-Pierre began to whip the strap against Danielle's body, anywhere he allowed it to land, legs, back, buttocks, even her stomach did not escape his wild and furious blows. Evelyne cried out, begging him to stop as Danielle could do nothing but scream in pain and helpless anger. Never had her father resorted to such horrendous physical violence. She again struggled against him, but his grasp was just too strong, she could almost feel the bone in her arm about to snap as her body screamed in agony. She fought to escape the strap but the more she did, the angrier he became.

"Please, for the love of God, stop this Jean-Pierre!" Evelyne cried helplessly.

"God has nothing to do with this Evelyne, stay out of it!" he paused just long enough to look her way, long enough for Danielle to almost collapse from pain and exhaustion. "She will learn her place!" he raised the strap again, but a clicking sound caught his attention.

"Make another move and I shall fire, Monsieur!" Jacques called out from just inside the curtain after clicking the trigger of the gun, now aimed and ready to fire.

The ladies gasped, unaware that he had even arrived, but Jean-Pierre held his ground, his arm still in the air. He recognized Jacques as the driver that had brought Danielle home the other evening after the broken wheel. He narrowed his eyes. "Young man, this is a private matter. Leave, or you shall be next."

He laughed slightly, "I doubt that, now let her go." He told Jean-Pierre, his voice low. "I assure you, a bullet in your heart is far easier on you than what awaits you behind this curtain if you do not cooperate.

Danielle panted in pain as her father kept his death grip upon her, unsure what to believe. "You are bluffing." He spat at him.

"You wish to test the theory, Monsieur?" Jacques asks as he coolly fires the gun at Jean-Pierre. It narrowly misses his head, lodging into the dark wood of the fireplace mantle behind him. Jacques smirked at the old man's shocked expression, "Next time, I shall not miss."

He left go of Danielle's arm and she collapsed on the floor.

"Monsieur Erik!" Jacques called out.

Erik ran in without a second to spare, followed by Jules. He stopped and saw Danielle cowered on the floor, slumped in a panic-stricken heap, her dress torn and gaping open from multiple blows. Red whelps formed on her legs, her face red with tears, panting in pain. His anger welled up inside and he knew he couldn't control it. He didn't want to.

Danielle saw them both and cried out, "Erik!"

"Are you alright, Danielle?" Jules asked her, but she could only shake her head, unable to say much more.

Before anyone could else respond, Erik took the gun quick as lightning and shoved Jean-Pierre into the wall, the barrel pointed at his head as he let out an angry cry.

"No!" Jules cried, running to Danielle side.

"Such a brave man as this…" Erik sneered, leaning close to his ear, his hand clutching his throat. "A man who chooses to frighten, intimidate and beat women…you are a waste of life and I shall take great pleasure sparing the world of your presence."

Jean-Pierre's face went pale at the sight of the strange man in the mask as he struggled to breath, pushing against Erik's shoulders, but he was no match for his strength. "Let me go!" he groaned hoarsely.

Erik cocked the gun with a slow, sly grin, more than ready to fire.

"Please Erik, no!" Danielle cried.

"Monsieur! Let us just take Danielle and leave!" Jules pleaded.

"Mother!" Nathalie's voice could be heard from inside the shop.

Jules turned to Evelyne and told her, "Go to your daughter, take her home and do not return here."

She looked helplessly at Danielle, who returned her gaze.

"Yes Evelyne, go. Please. I will find you soon…"

"Danielle…" she whimpered sadly, then covered her mouth. She turned and left the shop. They could all hear the door shut loudly.

"Jacques!" Erik called out.

He ran to him, "Yes, Monsieur."

"Take the gun and if he moves, kill him."

"With pleasure, Monsieur."

With that, Erik turned and went to Danielle, going to his knees before her. He stroked her cheek, allowing her tears to drip effortless onto his hand. "Danielle…"

Forgetting everything, all the hurt, the embarrassment, even the Vicomtess, she threw herself into his strong arms, gripping him with all her weakened might. "Erik…"

He lifted her up into his arms and stood, holding her tight. "I have you now, my sweet. I will never let anything happen to you, ever again." He spoke soft and comfortingly, but glared at Jean-Pierre. "We are going home now and you will not return."

"Her home is with me!" Jean-Pierre said, his voice rigid and guttural. Jacques' harsh grasp made him give a sudden wheeze.

Erik ignored his statement and spoke to Jules, "Go upstairs to her apartment, pack up what she wishes to bring, then return home separately. Jacques will drive Danielle and I home."

"Of course, Monsieur." He responded.

"Most everything…is still packed…Jules." Danielle muttered painfully. "Under my bed…but…pack my book…my mother's poem book…bookcase third shelf…black leather cover."

Jules smiled, nodding to her, "Any clothing you wish to have?"

"Bring only the minimum, I will provide her with everything else she needs." Erik answered for her sternly.

Then he asked Erik, "What about him?" gesturing toward Jean-Pierre.

"Do not let him out of your sight until you are away from the shop. You know what to do if he gives you any trouble."

Jules nodded, taking the gun from Jacques, who left quickly to bring the carriage to the front of the shop.

"You cannot do this!" Jean-Pierre screamed, "She is my daughter!"

With a smirk, Erik answered in a low and protective tone before leaving the shop with Danielle in his arms, "And she is my wife."

* * *

As the carriage rode quickly out of the busy streets toward Erik's home, Danielle continued to shake, partially from the cold, partially from the trauma of being beaten, but mostly from simply laying in Erik's arms. She held to him as tight as her raw and painful body would allow.

Erik pressed his hand to her head, keeping her close to his body, his cape wrapped around them both. He kissed her hair, her temple, whispering over and over, "It is over now…you are safe…."

It was what she wanted…what she needed to hear…and she slowly drifted off to sleep in his arms. He felt her breathing even out, her body's release of tension and he sighed, thankful that perhaps the sleep might ease her pain.

But all the while, he could not help but whisper over and over again in her ear…

…_.my wife._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Wow...this is a much longer chapter than I had anticipated. But, with so much going on, I hope it doesn't sound too jumbled. Big things happening now with Erik and Danielle! Stay tuned and keep those great reviews coming! Thanks!**


	16. Chapter 16

Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: 

The slight jarring of the carriage as Erik prepared to exit woke Danielle up slightly. Her body hurt more now, if that was even possible. _Probably from laying so still_, she thought to herself as she cringed from the dull throbbing in her limbs. She could feel her gown brushing across the raw whelped skin of her legs and wondered how she ever let her father get that far. Perhaps if she had just given in, not spoken back to him, he would have let her alone with just the typical harsh words…_blowing off steam_…if only she hadn't spoken up. No….she did the right thing, deep down, she knew it, she had to get away from him. _And what better place to go..._

Erik stopped cold and looked down at her when he noticed her shifting.

"I did not know you had awakened." He said softly, sitting at the edge of the carriage still holding her to him.

"I did, just now."

"Are you in pain?"

"I am stiff and sore mostly." She rested her head on his chest and tried to speak pleasantly. She could hear the worry in his voice.

"When I take you to your room, I shall have Lacie run a bath… that will help." He assured her as he stood gingerly and started walking into the house.

Emma, who had been pacing from the second floor balcony ever since Erik and Jules left to bring home Danielle, and Lacie, who, in a nervous fit, had been polishing everything in sight down in the foyer, jumped when the door finally flew open.

"Oh, Monsieur, did you find….OH!" Emma cried seeing Danielle in Erik's arms. "Mademoiselle! What happened?"

"Do not be frightened, Emma…" Danielle weakly answered her with a soft wave of her hand in reassurance.

"But…"

"She will be fine." Erik started up the staircase as Lacie started running behind him. "Bring the salve, ointments, water and bandages to the Rose Room." He instructed her, then turned to Lacie, "Run Mademoiselle a bath."

Both women nodded and ran as fast as they could, giving each other looks and mutual confused shrugs.

Erik entered the Rose Room and laid Danielle down on the bed as gently as he could, grimacing when she winced. She sighed when she finally came to rest, thankful to be away from the harshness of the carriage ride, but hated being out of Erik's arms, even for the softness of the Chenille bedspread.

"A hot bath will relieve the stiffness, I promise you, then Emma will tend your wounds." He told her softly, looking down at her from his seated position on the edge of the bed. "Are you hungry? Perhaps you would like some hot tea?"

"No, I simply wish to have the hot bath, I am sure it will be sufficient to warm me up, I am rather chilled from the carriage ride."

"I apologize for that, I…"

She shook her head profusely, "Not your fault…I assure you, you are very warm indeed," she laughed softly, "my body is simply…"she gave a shrug and Erik understood.

"I just wish that I could do more…" he inhaled deeply, touching her hand. When she did not respond, he blurted out, "I should have been there, Danielle, if I had stayed closer to you, if I had just been more persistent, if I had gone into the shop like I had wanted to in the first place, I could have prevented this."

She gasped, "Oh no, Erik! No one could foresee, only five minutes prior to his insane rant, he was quiet and subdued, even jovial towards Evelyne."

"Then what happened?"

"A gown I had finished yesterday for a client was returned, my fault really. I did not supervise Nathalie, Evelyne's daughter, properly and she messed up the hem. Easily fixed in a few minutes, but Father…when a mistake is made, he becomes so embarrassed…his reputation, you see….he just…it is not the first time, but this time…I stood up for myself, I would not let him talk down to me…I did not know he would do what he did…."

"All over a garment." His eyes flared almost red with the effort to control his ire.

"Yes, poor Nathalie tried to cover for me, the sweet girl…she should not have tried such a thing…"

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly as he recalled the young girl who had run to them for help. "Nathalie…black curly hair, dark blue gown?"

"Yes, why?" She asked, but then gasped in realization. "Evelyne sent her from the backroom to hide while she tried to prevent Father from beating me and…wait, did she….?"

He nodded, "She went to get help for you, it was just good fortune we were the first carriage she saw on the street.

"Ohh…I was wondering how you….you and Jules…Jacques…"

"We did not depart after you turned down Jules' offer. We were discussing another way to convince you to return, when a young girl ran to us and said someone was about to be beaten. When she pointed to the dress shop, we all knew…"

She looked at him deeply.

_He had been there…in the carriage….the whole time… _

He had kept his promise to stay away, although, she truly wished that he had come to her instead of Jules. Seeing him again after a three day absence might have changed her mind.

"Nathalie…" she sighed.

"A very brave young lady."

She nodded as she shifted slightly in the bed, moving to prop herself up. "I must find some way to thank her…"

"Wait, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to push her back down. "No need to get up just yet, we can take care of Nathalie later."

"I just wish to sit up."

"You do not need to…"

"Stop fighting and help me." She popped his arm to keep him from holding her down.

"Very well, stubborn lady." With a smirk, Erik grabbed a couple of pillows and pushed them securely behind her head. "How is this?"

"Better, thank you." She smiled, then she paused and allowed the smile to fade slightly, her forehead lowering in thought.

He observed her closely, especially her eyes. "What is wrong?"

She laid her hand over Erik's arm, a gesture that had now become so natural to her it was as easy as breathing, "Erik…what will you do to…"

"Your father?"

She nodded, almost afraid of the answer.

Erik wanted Jean-Pierre Durand dead. He wanted to be the one to do it, taking great pleasure in watching the man gasp his last breath. He thought of a million hideous ways he could do it the whole way back to his home as Danielle slept in his arms. Deep down inside, he knew he still had the capacity to be a cold and calculating murderer. But then he thought of Persia and of his friend, Nadir. He had not killed a soul in a year. He knew Nadir watched silently from the shadows, keeping the promise he had made so long ago, that he would never escape his gaze. At their last visit nearly five months before, the Daroga had expressed how proud he was that Erik had become a success and that he no longer lived underground, hardly seeing the light of day. Did he _want_ to turn back now, abandon it all? Yes. He would do it in a minute to protect Danielle. Revenge be damned, he would do _anything_ for her, all she had to do was say the word.

"I would love nothing more than to see your father dead, I will not lie to you, but his life is at your mercy. I will do whatever you ask of me." he told her.

She paused again in thought, his words sinking in. She was angry at her father, yes.

Resentful? Yes.

But did she truly want her father to die at Erik's hands? When she knew, deep down inside, Erik could very well do it without a moment's hesitation _and_ get away with it?

With each remembrance of the strap being slapped against her skin, she became tempted. But….no.

No matter what he'd done, she knew it was wrong.

"He is my father and I do not wish him harm. Let him be alone. Let the shop go bankrupt, I no longer care. I shall never go back, and I will make sure Evelyne does not either. What money is left that I stored away, I shall send to her, until she finds another position."

He nodded. "A wise decision. Keep your money, I will handle everything, Madame Piret and her family will not go impoverished. That, I promise you."

"You do not have to…"

He put his finger to her lips, shushing her from any further argument. He would not hear of it. If anything at this point, he would lavish the brave Nathalie with anything she desired, rewarding her ten times over for her courage, for if she had not…he shuddered to think of the alternative.

Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled his finger from her lips after brushing it with a small kiss. "Thank you, Erik….I…" her words failed her again.

So much to say, so much she wanted him to know. But how could she possibly tell him that seeing him come to her, knowing he was willing to _kill_ to protect her…that in that one moment, pain or no pain, she felt safer than she had ever felt her entire life.

How could she tell him that she'd fallen in love with him? It was impossible, her mind kept telling her. How do you possibly fall in love with a man you have barely known a week much less seen face to face less than that?

He looked down at her soft face, the tear stains from her ordeal thankfully faded away, being replaced by happier ones. Cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb pushing away a tear, he replied, "No, thank you, Danielle. I am just happy that you are here with me now. I know that I am still not forgiven for what I have done and I do not ask it at this time, but I assure you, if you choose to remain here, I shall give you the space you require and perhaps in time you and…I…" he stopped talking when he felt her hand touch his own cheek.

She needed no promises, no guarantees, "I will stay, Erik."

His very audible gasp of relief spoke volumes.

"Mademoiselle?" Emma's voice came softly with a knock to her door.

Giving a soft laugh at the timely interruption, she answered, "Come in."

Erik stood then and looked down at Danielle, and with a playful wink, pretended to be stern, "Do not argue with me anymore. Take a hot bath, then stay in bed and do what Emma says." He went to the door, then turned back to her, "Or I shall keep the sweet cakes away from you, Mademoiselle".

And as the door closed behind him, he could hear the two women burst into laughter.

And he smirked.

* * *

Erik tried to concentrate on his papers, but his mind drifted elsewhere over the past couple of hours since he'd left Danielle's room. He was elated at her decision to remain in the house. Yet, she had not agreed to continue the ruse of being his wife. Would she want to? He wanted desperately to ask, but, cursing himself for being cowardly, he simply did not have the nerve. He just didn't what to hear her say no. 

"Monsieur?" Jules poked his head inside the library door.

"Jules."

"I knocked, but no one answered. Jacques was outside, he told me to come ahead in."

"That is fine. Emma and Lacie are tending to Danielle upstairs, come in." he gestured and Jules entered, approaching his desk.

"I brought a large bag with Mademoiselle's belongings. A couple of dresses, hairbrushes, the book she requested… I gave it to Jacques and he is going to take it up to her room."

"Excellent, she will be pleased to have them, thank you."

"How is she?"

"Sore and tired, but better. She has agreed to stay."

That made Jules smile. "A sensible decision. And of course, agree to continue being your wife?"

Erik looked away, not ready to talk about it. Jules got his answer and understood. "I see. Perhaps she will change her mind in time."

He nodded and changed the subject, "Now, what about Monsieur Durand?"

"Oh, I do not believe we will be receiving any trouble from him, Monsieur." Jules smiled.

Erik raised an eyebrow, "Did you have to….?"

"Nothing like that. I simply told him that any involvement with the police would only result in him being arrested for assaulting his daughter, but that it would all be a moot point as he would not survive until a trial anyway. Of course he asked if I was making a threat, I simply shrugged my shoulders."

"Of course…"

"I also told him that he should open up the shop tomorrow, just as if nothing had ever happened, but without Danielle or Madame Piret being present. I told him that I would provide a seamstress for him in the interim and if he remained open and silent for seven days, that he would be paid a sum of two thousand francs to do with as he pleased. After that, if he wished to close up the shop, it would be his privilege.

"Two thousand….umm…."

"Yes, I knew he would not turn down such a sum, not after the other day when he practically foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog over the hundred franc note I had put on the counter."

"Of course not. So, what about Danielle?"

"I told him not to look for her, ever, and that at the end of the seven days, you would allow her, supervised, to contact him, if she so desired."

He nodded, "Very well. Do you think she will wish to see him?"

"He is her father, no matter what he's done. But, it is up to her. I am not sure which she will choose."

"I will inform her of this, then allow her to make the decision for herself. You have done well, thank you. It is late, you can leave now if you wish. I am sure your wife will be pleased to have you home a bit early today."

"Thank you, Monsieur, I will do just that…." He turned to leave when Jacques burst into the room suddenly. He stopped and bowed at the waist.

"Monsieur Erik."

Erik looked up at him, "Yes, Jacques."

He gestured towards the front door and said, "Monsieur Mancia is here."

* * *

Catherine Dupré paced around the foyer of her mother in law's home, too concerned to even take tea on the terrace. Richard typically did not run off without as much as a word. But today, promising they would be leaving before lunchtime, he left, not telling her where he was going. Now it was late afternoon and he had yet to return. 

Madame Dupré, on the other hand, was not quite as worried. She knew Richard had not informed his wife of where he was going and had asked her to do the same thing. Catherine simply would not understand why her husband had a desire to visit the grave of a woman he knew years ago, yet had not bothered to tell her about. No, Madame Dupré hummed amusingly to herself, let them work it out for themselves.

"Catherine, dear, come out and have some tea with me and Madame Marchand." She prompted from the door of the terrace. Jasmine Marchand had arrived not an hour before and had still not stopped making jokingly crude comments to Madame Dupré about Catherine's milquetoast expression and lackadaisical attitude. She figured if she could get her out there and engaged in conversation, it might shut Madame Marchand's mouth.

"I do not feel up to tea, not until Richard returns. I am so worried. I hope he has not met with anything….unfortunate." she sighed sadly.

_The poor girl always thought the worst_… Madame Dupré shook her head.

"Perhaps it would be a nice distraction for you, you have never met Madame Marchand and she has been asking for you, plus the children are playing…they so wish for you to be there with them…" she began but was interrupted by the opening of the door.

Richard walked in, looking a bit disheveled, his face scowling. Until he saw Catherine.

"Richard!" Catherine exclaimed.

He stopped and appeared shocked that she was there waiting for him, but truly couldn't blame her…he was much later than he'd expected he would be.

"Oh, hello, darling." He put on a hard pressed smile, Madame Dupré noticed. He walked over and gave his wife a soft kiss on the cheek, then turned to his mother, "Hello, Mother."

She nodded back politely, "Son."

Catherine waited for him to say something else, to explain where he'd been, why he was so late, but nothing came. He simply walked upstairs to their room and shut the door.

She furrowed her brow and after a few moments, took a deep breath shrugged her shoulders dejectedly and said to Madame Dupré, "I suppose I shall take my tea now."

"Good idea, dear. Go on out and I shall be there shortly." Madame Dupré waved her hand with an exasperated exhale.

_Wallflower…_

Once Catherine had gone outside, however, Madame Dupré took off upstairs. Unlike his wife, she was not going to go another minute without an explanation. His demeanor and facial expression told her that something unsettling had happened.

She stopped at his closed door and knocked, "Richard, may I come in?"

He sighed as he sat alone on the bed, looking at his packed bags gathered on the floor, hearing his children playing happily outside. "Come in, Mother."

She opened the door slowly, then stepped inside, "You do not look like a man who has closure." She told him, getting right to the point…no sense in pulling punches.

"You are right, Mother, I do not."

She walked over and sat down on the bench in front of the bed, "Tell me what happened."

"I could not find her, Mother. I started out going to Père Lachaise where her mother is buried. I found Geneviève Durand without any trouble, but no sign of Danielle, even an unmarked grave. I went to the records office and they said there was no listing for her. I spent the whole day, all over Paris at every cemetery conceivable…to no avail. There is no listing for Danielle Durand in _any_ cemetery here."

"Nowhere?"

He locked onto her eyes and answered sternly, "Nowhere, Mother."

"Perhaps she was cremated?"

"The thought had come to mind, but I vividly recall Jean-Pierre Durand saying the word 'buried'."

"So, what does that mean, exactly? That she is not buried in Paris?"

"I do not know. But I cannot leave here until I find the answers. I…" he exhaled deeply, his mind simply too tired to continue thinking.

"Do not think about it anymore today, come to the terrace now. I would love for you to meet Madame Marchand."

* * *

Erik's head dropped into his hands at the very mention of Mancia's name, "I am in no mood." 

Jacques truly understood Erik's grimacing face at the mention of Monsieur Mancia and shared it. He despised every inch of the man's fat, balding headed body ever since he had taken liberties with Lacie. It was certainly no secret to anyone in the house that he and Lacie both had developed feelings for one another, including Erik. More than once, Erik had been temped to let the hot blooded young Frenchman loose to do with Monsieur Mancia as he wished with no reprimand.

"I was not going to let him in, but he says he is here with a message." Jacques told him. "He said that it was of the utmost importance that it was put directly into your hands and you read it immediately."

"I see." Erik answered him.

"Shall I…take the message and remove him from the premises?" Jacques almost smiled at the very idea.

Erik gave an almost inaudible laugh and looked over at Jules, who shook his head, "It does seem important, Monsieur. Perhaps he should stay?"

"Agreed, but no longer than required. Let him in." Erik relented.

The young man bowed his head and began to leave the room, but no sooner than he grabbed the knob then the door flew open and Monsieur Mancia walked in, an envelope in one hand and a small hunk of bread in the other.

"Good afternoon, Messieurs." He mumbled, his mouth full of food.

"You seem to take too many liberties in my home here lately, Mancia." Erik groaned.

"My apologies for my rather prompt entry, but I could not wait to be introduced." He quickly finished what was in his hand and wiped the crumbs off on his jacket. "I do recall you hate it when I eat in here…" he laughed.

Jules couldn't help but crack a smile at Erik's less than civilized sneer.

Mancia then turned to Jacques as he pulled a coin out of pocket, "Be a good boy and fetch me a glass of brandy from that decanter there." He threw the coin at Jacques, but he made no move to catch it. Staring, his eyes narrowed, he allowed the coin to bounce off his chest and land to the floor with a loud clank.

Jacques looked over at Erik, who could hardly contain his pleasure at seeing the young man's reaction. "You are dismissed, Jacques."

He nodded politely to Erik and Jules, glared again at Mancia then left the room. He was going to find Lacie and keep her company and out of the hands of the rutting pig.

Erik was growing impatient and his voice was short and to the point, "Monsieur, please state your business, I have had a long day."

"Simply this, Monsieur Renault." He held up the envelope as he retrieved his coin off the floor. "I thought you would like to have it immediately."

Erik gestured to Jules, who took the envelope from Mancia and handed it to him. Then he sat down in front of Erik's desk to observe him it, as Mancia walked to the window and looked outside…searching for Lacie, no doubt.

Erik read the contents of the envelope and shook his head in dismay and utter irritancy."

"Monsieur?" Jules leaned forward.

"Bloody hell..." he muttered, letting the message fall onto the desk. "This is not the time for more God forsaken parties."

"A party?"

"Yes." Mancia turned around and walked to the desk. Since you had me inform everyone involved of the delay in the inauguration because of the fire, they decided, in the interim, to throw a Grand Opening celebration."

"In two days." Erik interrupted, "Two days! Can you believe this?"

Jules gasped, "Will everything be completed by then?"

Erik exhaled slowly, "Yes, everything is completed now, except the repairs that have to be made due to the fire, but they were aware of that."

"When was this decision made?" Jules asked Mancia, who had taken it upon himself now to get his own glass of brandy from Erik's decanter.

He took a huge swallow and answered, "This morning. An emergency meeting of the principal investors was called. Apparently…" he snorted contemptuously, "…an attempt was made to contact Monsieur Renault, but when he could not be reached, they continued without him and was subsequently outvoted."

Both Erik and Jules knew that was not true. "Ridiculous. I was never made aware." Erik said.

"I know, I know, Monsieur." Mancia replied placidly.

"Of course, you are required to be at the grand opening." Jules piped up.

Erik curled his mouth into a deep frown, "Of course. I am in no mood for a fête. I simply wish to have the inauguration over with and begin business again."

Mancia paced around the room, "Yes, but you know how much Firmin and André love to have their little celebrations. The more they can show off their opera house, the better."

Erik snorted. _Their opera house…_

"No matter, it shall be a grand event. At least your wife shall enjoy it. Besides, where is that lovely wife of yours?" Mancia turned and asked. That caught both Jules and Erik off guard.

"Well…" Erik began, looking at Jules for the first lie either one of them could think of.

"You see…she is…" Jules tried to continue.

A voice from the door interrupted them both.

"I am right here, of course."

All three men's eyes flew to the library door where Danielle stood, smiling pleasantly. Her hair was up and fixed with a beautiful blue hairslide that matched her soft blue dress. Not a hint of her assault was present physically on her body, or emotionally on her face.

"Would it not be wise to play hostess and extend a welcome to your guest?" She added with a touch of flare that she was becoming accustomed to.

Mancia approached her, holding out his hand, "Well, good afternoon to you, Madame Renault. You look delightful, but of course I expected no less."

"Good afternoon, Monsieur Mancia, always lovely to see you again." She came inside and took Monsieur Mancia's hand and he kissed her fingers lightly, his eyes glancing Erik's way. For once, it appeared as if he did not want to overstep his bounds.

Erik stood and came out from behind his desk, keeping his eyes locked onto Danielle's, almost pleadingly. While he was elated that it appeared she wished to continue the charade, she certainly did not have to keep up appearances this quickly. He could tell she was still in pain.

"I hope my abrupt entry did not disturb you, gentlemen. I was passing by on my way from the garden and heard talk of a grand opening."

Erik took her hand from Monsieur Mancia's and walked her over to the couch by the fireplace, "Never a disturbance, love." He shielded her from Mancia's view so he could not see her make a pained face as she sat down.

"And yes, there is a celebration." Mancia added from behind them.

She looked at Erik, "Oh?"

He moved from her and back to his desk where he picked up the envelope. He pulled out an invitation and held it up for her to see. "Yes, they have scheduled a grand opening celebration at the opera house two days from now."

"Oh, that sounds lovely. I have yet to really see it in its full splendor." She laughed.

"So you will attend after all?" Mancia asked.

"No." Erik said sharply, then turned to Danielle. "If you recall, love, we are due in Boscherville in two days." He lied.

"We can always send word to Aunt Marie of our delay. This is an important night for you, love. It is only fitting that we attend and celebrate the triumphant grand opening."

"Are you sure?" he asked her, staring deep into her eyes, trying desperately to read what was behind them.

"Yes, I am very sure. I shall have Emma make the necessary preparations now."

"Then it is settled." Mancia laughed. "The little woman has spoken."

"Is there anything else?" Erik asked him, very aware that he has now overstayed his welcome and even more put off by his use of the word _little woman._

"No. I have another appointment…." Mancia checked his pocket watch, "...so if you will all excuse me." He nodded to Danielle and left the library quickly before any other word could be said.

No one breathed until they heard the front door shut and Jules spotted him going to his carriage.

"He is gone." He sighed.

"That is indeed a strange man." Danielle chuckled and Jules let out a laugh of his own.

Erik did not smile, he was too worried, "Danielle…" he began slowly, "…you truly should not be down here. Why are you not in bed, resting?"

"I am fine, actually. Emma patched up some of the deeper welts, but most of the other marks have faded. Thank goodness for a good petticoat." She giggled again, this time Erik laughed with her.

"Since you two should discuss this further, I believe I shall go home now." Jules said as he went for the door.

"Thank you for bringing my things, Jules." She told him.

"You are very welcome, Mademoiselle." He nodded respectfully to Erik and left the room, being sure to close the door behind him.

"Well…" Erik said to her, "alone again."

She laughed, "It appears so."

They sat for a few moments, rather awkwardly. There was so much they both wanted to say, but neither knowing just how they wanted to say it. Danielle fidgeted with the fringe on her gown, finally stopping when Erik's hand touched hers. Her skin tingled.

"You did not have to come in here and pretend, Danielle." He told her very plainly. "I was capable of telling Mancia that you were in Boscherville again, or out shopping…or something."

"I know, but I was right there and it was just best to come inside before he spotted me. Besides…" she looked at him thoughtfully, "I wanted to."

He inhaled, his eyes widening, not even sure he heard right. "You did?"

"Yes, I did Erik. After all…you did tell my father I was your wife."

He recalled his words he had said in possessive anger and almost blushed, not realizing she had taken it to heart. "Well…by agreement only." He responded quickly.

"If you remember, I ended the agreement."

"But…"

"I am here, Erik, because I want to be here." She blurted out, then stopped.

_Say it! Just say it!_

"You told Jules that…"

"I know what I told him, but I did not like the idea of you having the Vicomtess here in your home….alone."

Erik smirked, but remained silent. She was showing a jealous side.

"And besides, I do not think she would buy that I am always seemingly gone on long trips, considering how long we have been…married."

"I do suppose that it would soon grow to be an old excuse."

She nodded, looked down at Erik's hand over hers and let herself exhale, "Erik. I have nowhere to go. I belong nowhere." She looked up to meet his gaze again before continuing, "At least here, I know I feel comfortable, feel welcome. I like Lacie and Emma very much. Everyone is always so kind and considerate of me. My God! I mean, your cook has done nothing but try and get me to eat since I got back here!" she laughed nervously and Erik nodded, "I need to be here. And….I think….you need me."

"Oh, Danielle." He came closer and took her into his arms. "I do need you… so very much."

She melted into his strong embrace, her head laying against his chest and the sound of his heart beating fast was almost music to her ears, yet for all that, she could still not get the image of him and Christine out of her head. She pulled away slightly and regarded him.

He knew what was on her mind. "You are still sure that I want Christine."

"She is still part of you, part of your past Erik, you cannot deny that."

His arms still wrapped around her firmly, he lowered his head, capturing her lips with his own. There was no thought of Christine as fire shot through both of them, holding onto each other as if letting go was the kiss of death. Both exhaled as their lips parted to allow their tongues to venture deeper inside, exploring before mingling with the other.

Erik's mind raced rapidly as he almost enveloped her small frame within his own. He had been so sure he would never feel her lips like that again, never thought he would be allowed the very privilege of feeling her body against his. His relief, his almost explosive release of tension could have been felt all over the house.

Danielle heard his passionate groan and could feel herself weaken, her body tremble. She let her own mouth emit a gentle gasp just as Erik pulled away from their explosive kiss and whispered softly….

"She is my past, Danielle, but you….you are my future."

* * *

Richard proceeded to yawn and his hand flew to his mouth to hide it. Another long hour had passed and he had yet to speak more than a few short words since he arrived on the terrace to have tea with his mother and Madame Marchand. 

That Madame Marchand was sure a gossip! He even noticed amusingly a few times that his mother would roll her eyes at the things that the women seemed to know. Finally, Madame Dupré spoke up, in order to change the subject.

"By, the way, Jasmine, I noticed your daughter had on the loveliest little gown yesterday afternoon. Is it a Madame Boudreaut original?"

"Oh no…I did not have time for Madame Boudreaut to make a gown on such short notice, she was simply backed up out the door!" Jasmine Marchand continued to babble without stopping, "With the coming inauguration, of course…and then dealing with the new investor's wife…Madame Renault…" she giggled.

Richard stopped yawning and started listening.

"What about her?" Madame Dupré asked.

"You did not hear what happened in her shop a week ago? Oh my! The woman went in for a fitting and was apparently too shy to remove her clothing in front of Madame Boudreaut. Well, she was in such a rush that she began to lose her patience. Well, you know how she can be when she is rushed…she was rather rude to the young woman and suddenly, her husband, Monsieur Renault showed up and he just went off on the poor old woman! It was a sight, I hear. Madame Boudreaut just cowered in the corner like a church mouse!" Madame Marchand laughed.

"Oh my…"

"Oh yes. But, as you saw at the party, the dress she made for Madame Renault was just divine. It would have to be or she would have surely lost business."

"Yes, I can imagine."

"So, you see…I made the right decision having my daughter's dress made elsewhere way before this incident with Madame Renault ever came up, if not, no telling how foul a mood Madame Boudreaut would have been in if I had dared ask."

"Where did you go? Marceau's, Ambreville's…?

"No, Durand's." she replied matter of factly through a sip of tea.

"Really?" Madame Dupré asked, looking at Richard, who almost spilled his own cup of tea at the mention of the name.

"Yes. Well, you know….that Jean-Pierre Durand is a strange sort, but a delightful man most of the time. He promised me he could have the gown for me in two days, but of course when I went to pick it up, it had not been finished. I daresay I was rather put off, but he was very apologetic. Oh my, did he turn his anger on to the seamstress…she almost fainted!" she told them.

"Madame Piret." Richard spoke up. "A shame he has to berate such a charming woman."

"You met her?" his mother asked him.

"Well, yes of course, she was there when I…" he stopped and shrugged, not wishing for Madame Marchand to hear another word.

"No, he did not call this woman Madame Piret. Danielle…yes, Danielle was her name." She corrected Richard innocently.

Richard sat up in his seat, throwing a glance at his mother. "What? He called her Danielle, are you sure?"

"Why, yes, very sure."

"What did she look like? Was she an older woman with dark hair, somewhat graying on the sides?" he described Evelyne perfectly.

"No, this was a younger woman. Slightly red hair, a bit thin, soft features. She kept her head low, so I do not know her eye color, but she was a rather lovely thing, if she wished to be that is…she was rather plainly dressed."

Richard's heart skipped a beat, his hands begin to sweat and he wiped them on his trouser legs.

"Jasmine…" Madame Dupré started slowly, "have you ever met Madame Renault?"

"No, I have not, why?"

She threw a glance back at Richard, knowing what he was thinking as well as she was. "So, this woman could not have been Madame Renault."

That made Jasmine cackle loudly, "A girl like that? A skittish little thing, she was. Certainly not the woman you described to me as Madame Renault. Besides, she must have been Monsieur Durand's daughter, she referred to him as 'Father'.

That was all Richard needed to hear. He stood up, looked down at the women and said, "If you will excuse me…" then he said to his mother, "Tell Catherine I had to run out and will return later." Then he quickly exited the terrace, leaving both women stunned.

Jasmine furrowed her brow, "Was it something I said?"

* * *

**A/N: I apologize for the delay as life things happened this past week. Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! I certainly did not expect so many. A few people have written me and asked me to describe Danielle in more detail, but I believe I have described her to the best of my ability. So...I decided to post the links to the two pictures that inspired me to write Danielle. I hope this gives you a better idea of what I think she looks like. Here they are... just run the whole link together after you've pasted it into your browser and put in the double /'s after http, you know what to do. Thanks, Melissa **

**http: img. photobucket. com/ albums/ v695/ SouthernMidnightQueen/ misc/ danielle.jpg**

**http: img. photobucket. com/ albums/ v695/ SouthernMidnightQueen/ misc/ danielle2.jpg**


	17. Chapter 17

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Seventeen:

The sun shined brightly into Danielle's room as Emma pulled up the shade of her window. It hit the young woman's sleepy face as she said, "Good morning!"

She grimaced and blinked against it, answering in a still sleep induced, lazily hoarse voice. "What time is it, Emma?"

"A little after eight o'clock." She smiled, approaching the bed.

Danielle's eyes flew wide open. Eight o'clock! She never slept in that late. "My God! I had no idea…" She immediately sat up, then grabbed her head, reeling from sudden dizziness, "Owwww…"

"Easy, do not try and do too much…"

"But, I did not intend to…"

"It is alright, dear, I let you sleep in, you needed your rest. Breakfast has been prepared for you, I shall have it served downstairs, or up here if you so desire. Would you like me to run a bath for you first?"

She breathed in and out slowly, waiting for the dizziness to be replaced by the inevitable ache in her bones. When it did, she hissed. "Yes, I would prefer a bath first."

"Of course."

"What time does the Vicomtess arrive for her tutoring?"

"Within the hour. Monsieur Erik is preparing the music room as we speak."

Danielle snorted.

Emma could not help but laugh at it, having never heard it come from her before. "Mademoiselle? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I…no, I suppose I am not."

"I understand, would you like to talk about it?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and waited, knowing she would be ready to get it all out.

It did not take long.

"Am I doing the right thing, Emma?"

"Right thing?"

"Yes. I mean I know that Erik brought me here to keep me away from my father, but I very well could have just taken a carriage to Versailles to be with Michelle. Yet, I chose to stay and without a moment's hesitation, throwing everything I felt, everything he did, out the window. Now, I wonder…am I making the right decision?"

"What does your mind tell you? Your heart?"

She sighed and looked at Emma deeply, "That is the problem. For so long, I was hardly ever allowed to think for myself. I used to be hard headed, I always went where my mind and my heart told me to go. Then, Richard. Father always told me that if I had been more sensible, I would never have let myself get involved with a man that was so obviously a womanizer, immature….perhaps, he was right."

"Because you fell in love with the wrong man? My dear, women have been falling for the wrong men for ages now…."

"But I gave my virginity to him. He said he would marry me, he said…."

Emma stopped her with a touch to her cheek. "Mademoiselle, it sounds as if you did not tread foolishly, as you were lead blindly by a manipulative man who was only after one thing."

She went silent. It was the most simple of notions, yet for some reason, it was as if it was a foreign concept to her.

"Do you not see? You were very young, impetuous and free spirited. Monsieur Dupré should have been more responsible and more respectful."

"I know…but…"

"But there there, Mademoiselle, you are here now and safe. Whatever your father has to deal with, he can deal with on his own. You will deal with what you need to in time, but for now, it is best to try and put it out of your mind."

"I tried to put it all out of my mind last night." She began to babble, "Erik and I spent a great deal of the night in the library in front of the fireplace. We just held each other, Emma…we hardly spoke…and it was the most wonderful feeling. I can not recall when I ever felt so safe and comfortable. I daresay that not even Richard ever did something so wonderful. Most of the time he was simply interested in having sex…" she paused abruptly again. "Pardon me…"

"I know, dear. I was once a married lady; I know what goes on between a man and a woman."

She laughed a bit nervously, but continued, "Anyway, I know I eventually fell asleep. I felt Erik lift me in his arms, bring me back up here and lay me on the bed, but I do not remember anything after…I…" she looked down and observed she was in a thin nightgown. Her eyes flew to Emma's. "Oh God, how did I…?"

"Do not worry. Monsieur Erik woke me around two o'clock and asked me to undress you, as you had fallen asleep in your clothing. You had no nightclothes, so I took one of Lacie's garments that I had just washed for you to wear, until Monsieur Renault can purchase proper ones for you."

Danielle released the breath she'd been unaware she'd been holding until that very moment, relieved that Erik had not undressed her, yet still a bit disappointed.

Although, she thought to herself, if Erik had undressed her, she would certainly have liked to be awake for it. "Thank you." She told Emma.

She gave her hand one last squeeze as she stood and began to walk toward the door, "I have laid out your clothing for the day and I shall go now and prepare your bath, then I will return and check your bandages."

* * *

Madame Dupré had just finished her coffee when she heard Richard coming down the stairs. She had waited up for him the night before after he made his impromptu split from the terrace to find out if he was able to get any information from Jean-Pierre Durand about Danielle, but by the end of dinner, Richard had come home empty handed.

"_Monsieur Durand was not there." He had told her when she met him at the foot of the stairs when he finally returned after eight o'clock that evening._

"_Not there?" she had asked, hoping she had not heard right._

"_The shop was closed…door locked tight, blinds down. I knocked multiple times and called his name, but nothing." His eyes had looked so dejected, disappointed._

"_In the middle of the day? That makes no sense." She had told him and he nodded in agreement. _

"_What will you do now, Son?" she has asked him._

"_I do not know, Mother. But I shall not give up, not until I find Monsieur Durand and get the answers I'm after." He told her, then walked up slowly to his room where he stayed the rest of night, not even coming down to have a late night meal._

Now, she could hear him approaching and she wanted to find out what his plans were. When he passed the sitting room, not noticing her immediately, she called out, "Richard!"

He stopped and took two steps back, his heading turning her way. "Oh! Good morning, Mother."

With a wave of her hand, she gestured for him to come inside, "Please, tell me…what do you plan to do today?"

"Very simple, I plan on returning to Monsieur Durand's dress shop." He said in an almost placid tone, as if it was a ridiculous question to begin with. "I will continue to do that until he opens up again."

"What if he never does?"

"Then I will track him down." His voice suddenly rang out with a finality that she did not like. It was so unlike Richard to be this determined over something, much less something that she considered being such a trivial matter.

"Why is it so important to find out if this Madame Renault is really Danielle? I mean, if Monsieur Renault prefers to marry a woman like that, then so be it, it is not our concern."

"Richard turned to her and blurted out, "Are you really serious, Mother? Monsieur Renault now represents the opera house! His presence, as well as the woman he chooses to marry, is very important. Do you not feel it would be an embarrassment for him to parade a woman around as his wife when she is not who she says she is?"

"Well, of course, but if the woman I met the party is truly Danielle, Madame Renault or not, she had changed dramatically. I found her to be very socially acceptable. She was a delight, charming, graceful…a…."

"A liar! She stood there at the party _and_ at the dress shop and told me _I_ was mistaken! I knew I was not, yet she insinuated to everyone around her that I was quite mad!"

Finally, she understood. "So you are angry about that? It is not for the sake of the opera house, Richard, you wish to prove her wrong simply for the sake of your pride!" she raised her voice also.

"That is beside the point, I…"

"Moreover, it could be quite possible that she has lied to Monsieur Renault also, did you ever think of that?" She interrupted.

That made him pause.

"True, she could have very well lied to him." He calmed down and began to pace and think out loud, "But, if he does not know her true identity, does he also know about the baby? And if he does know…there is that possibility that the baby did not die and he is out there somewhere and…"

He was stopped by his mother's gasp. He turned to her and immediately realized his mistake.

"What about the child?" she insisted.

He winced and shook his head, "Well, I did not wish to tell you."

"Tell me." She insisted.

"Jean-Pierre told me that the baby…a boy… was stillborn."

"Oh…" she looked down, a bit saddened at the notion that his child, her grandchild, had not survived. No matter how much she did not want to acknowledge the child for social reasons, she certainly would not wish for it to die.

He continued almost immediately, "But perhaps the child is still alive. That might be why Jean-Pierre lied, he was afraid I might try to take the child from him."

She approached him and touched his arm, "Is that what you wish?"

"No, Mother. Yes, when I heard the child was a boy, I actually thought about taking the child for myself, especially now that Catherine cannot have anymore…but no, it is truly not what I want. If the child is alive, I would like to perhaps see him, make sure that he is well, that he is taken care of. I should have done that years ago and I am ashamed that I did not. I have no use for Danielle otherwise."

She sighed in genuine relief, "Good, because that girl was trouble to begin with and in my opinion, she is still causing trouble. If you are determined to become entangled with her again, I hope it is only for the sake of the child."

He placed his hand over hers and looked down at her. A lovely woman she was, always thinking of how the great Dupré's are perceived. He would not dare make an embarrassment of their name. "Trouble or not, I will find the answers." He assured her before he turned and headed for the door.

* * *

Jean-Pierre reluctantly opened the blinds of his shop after unlocking the door and removing the 'closed' sign. Earlier that morning, he'd heard a knock at the door of the shop and when he went to answer it, an older woman stood there before him. Béatrice Trudeau, she said her name was, and she had been sent by Jules Bernard to help out in the shop. She seemed nice enough, he had observed as he let her in. She seemed to know nothing of what had transpired the day before and was eager to begin and dispensed with any unneeded chit chat. He kept the shop closed while he showed her around, telling her where everything was and what current projects needed to be completed and when they were due to be picked up. She said she could manage and sat down to begin while Jean-Pierre went back upstairs to clean up and figure out how to make his own breakfast.

That was more than an hour ago.

Now he sat back on his stool behind the counter, looking over the books, not a word or sound coming from the backroom. He suddenly missed the laughing chatter that came from Evelyne as she sewed. Even his daughter…at least her presence, as almost invisible as it was, still left an impression in the empty shop.

_Danielle…_

He thought back again to the events of the previous day.

He had to sit in a chair in his own sitting room as Jules Bernard gathered up Danielle's belongings. Jules had made him talk constantly so his voice could always be heard in an effort to make sure he stayed in one place. He didn't protest. By the time the young man had begun to lay down the terms, he was in no mood to argue anything. He'd had enough. He had wholeheartedly agreed to two thousand francs in seven days. Seven days. In that amount of time, he could be away from Paris, away from his daughter and never look back. Once Jules left, all he remembered after that was drinking his brandy and falling asleep.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Richard came storming inside. When Jean-Pierre looked up and saw Richard, his mouth dropped. He was truly the last person he expected to see again. "Monsieur Dupré…"

Richard did not have time for any pleasantries, nor would he waste a word, "Durand. No more games, I want to know the truth, where is Danielle?"

Jean-Pierre stammered, "I told you, Monsieur, she is…"

Richard grabbed the old man by the collar and pulled him to his face. This tone dropped dramatically, "I searched the cemeteries. I looked up records. There is nothing, not even a death certificate on her."

Durand silently struggled against Dupré's grasp, but Richard was far from finished, "I know that Danielle was seen in this shop just a week ago. I know you called her by name and she referred to you as Father."

He gasped then and shook his head, trying in vain to deny it all, to come up with another lie.

"Shall I bring in Madame Marchand to confirm this?" he almost growled in his face.

Then he remembered. Danielle being late…not finishing the gown…

_His voice was as cold as his eyes when he addressed her. "Danielle, Madame Marchand is waiting. Where is her gown?"_

_Stammering, she approached him and replied, "Father, her gown is not due for two days, I have still to finish the beadwork and hem. It will be ready on time, I assure you."_

When Jean-Pierre's eyes widened in recognition, Richard knew the answer. "Do not deny it. It is no use. Tell me where she is, or I shall hire a private detective to come here and tear this place apart, inch by inch. Is that understood?"

Jean-Pierre panicked. The thought of a stranger going through his personal belongings was too much for him to handle. His mind began to close in on itself and all he could think of now was getting rid of Richard, even if it meant telling him the truth. Anything than to have his privacy invaded, he'd burn down the whole shop first.

Yet, as he opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly thought back to the deal he had made with Jules Bernard. Two thousand francs for remaining silent for seven days. _To hell with Danielle, the spoiled brat always got away with everything!_ He still thought of the masked man's words, 'and she is my wife.' Again, it had appeared that his daughter had shamed him. The very thought of her running off and marrying someone in secret! And someone in a mask! He was very well aware of the reports that came out a year ago about the Opera Ghost. He wore a mask. His only child, now married to a murderer, a man who burned the Garnier. Inconceivable!

He looked at Richard and decided. He'd tell a few choice things, oh yes, but it would cost him.

"How much is it worth for you to know?" he suddenly smirked.

Richard frowned. Here it was, down to money. He didn't care, as long as he knew the truth. "Name your price, old man."

"Five thousand francs."

He almost choked. Five thousand! "You must be mad." He told him.

"Possibly, but if you want to know what I know…." He almost whistled in arrogance.

Richard let go of his collar and snorted loudly. He reached into his wallet and pulled out all he had, two thousand francs and he put it on the counter. "Tell me what you know now and take the two thousand. Tonight I will return and provide you with the difference."

"How can I trust you will return?"

"I am an honest man, Monsieur. I keep my word."

"And if I refuse?"

Richard kept a tight grip on his money. "Information or no, I will walk out of here and you get nothing. Tomorrow, an investigator will come here and begin searching."

_Talk now and get two thousand, plus three thousand tonight, or remain silent and get two thousand in seven days_….he mulled it over and decided he wanted money now. Besides, he could still continue to pretend until the seven days was up and get another two thousand. _Brilliant!_

"You have a deal."

* * *

It was midday before Richard returned to the Dupré home and found his mother alone in her sewing room embroidering. She heard the door open and she waited for him to find her.

"Mother!" he called out from the foyer.

"Sewing room, son!" she answered.

She could hear his heavy footsteps move rapidly up the staircase and before long, he appeared at her door, a bit disheveled, but with a rather satisfied smile.

"Is Michelle and the children here?"

"No, they have gone into town."

He exhaled in relief, dying to tell her the good news out of the way of his wife, who, by that time, had begun to ask questions of her own. He was not ready to answer them just yet.

Madame Dupré could almost feel the air shift with his changing mood, "Did you speak with Monsieur Durand?" she gestured for him to enter.

He came inside and sat down in a small chair by the window, "Yes."

"And?"

"He confirmed it. Danielle is indeed very much alive."

"Oh my! So she is Madame Renault!"

"He did not confirm that, but I am sure she is."

"Wait, he did not tell you she was married? I do not understand."

"It is hard for me to piece together too. He said up until yesterday, Danielle had been living under his roof…their apartment above the shop. The past week, though, she had been taking trips to visit her cousin Michelle in Versailles and ever since then she had changed. Then suddenly, yesterday, they got into an argument and a man burst in, he said he wore a white mask on one half of his face…"

"Monsieur Renault!"

"Yes," he continued, "Jean-Pierre said he took Danielle with him and said she was his wife. He claims it was the first he'd heard of it."

"But The Renaults have apparently been married six months!" she answered.

"I know and I told Monsieur Durand the whole story of how they apparently met and married. He was very shocked, especially the use of a different name. He confirmed that Michelle was not her middle name, it is Andrée. He also said there was no way that Danielle could have gone anywhere near Boscherville six months ago. She never left the shop, except to visit the market and run short errands. That was until last week when she went to Michelle's under the pretense of helping her with a difficult pregnancy; she continued going there at least three times and was almost always late coming back."

"So Monsieur Renault saw Danielle in Versailles?"

Richard shrugged slightly, taking a deep breath and laying his head against the chair. "It is entirely possible. Nothing for sure of course."

Madame Dupré started fanning herself, "This….it is all so confusing…"

He crooked his head but did not raise it, "I know, but most important, Mother is that it now appears that the marriage between Madame and Monsieur Renault has either been altered, or is a lie altogether. No matter, I plan on finding her and finding out where my child is. I truly do not care about the marriage."

"What makes you think….? Did he say the child lived?"

"No. He would not talk about the child, which makes me think that he was put up for adoption and they do not want me to track him down. Madame Marchand made no mention of a child hanging around the shop. Believe me, when I told him I found no grave for the child, as well as for Danielle, he clammed up very quickly."

"So, do you know where Monsieur Renault's home is?"

"No, I do not. Everyone I checked with at the opera house is either in the dark, or too loyal to tell. I did find out something interesting though…."

"Yes?"

"I found out that the Renaults _will_ be attending the grand opening tomorrow night."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Monsieur Mancia was more than happy to tell me that bit of news when I spoke to him not long ago."

"So you will go after all? I know you had said that you planned on take Catherine and the kids home."

"I shall be going now, believe me. Mancia gave me an invitation. Yet, considering what I have to do, I think it is best to send Catherine home with the children. She will not like it, but she'll understand. It will be the only way I can truly track down Danielle and get any kind of information."

* * *

Emma had no sooner helped Danielle with the laces of her new gown before Lacie knocked on the door of the closed Rose Room.

"Mademoiselle…." Danielle heard, followed by a slight giggle, "I mean…Madame?"

Danielle glanced at Emma and they both let out a lighthearted laugh.

"Come in, Lacie."

The young maid opened the door just enough to stick her brunette topped head inside. "Forgive the interruption, but the Vicomtess has just arrived, and…" she stopped and gasped at Danielle's gown.

Danielle narrowed her eyes and regarded Lacie for a moment, wondering what had come over her, until she looked down. The gown she was wearing was by no means as extravagant as the one she wore to the party, but it was nonetheless elegant. It was a dark green, her preferred color over the more plain colored gowns she was told to wear by her father. It was light and soft and billowed out when she spun around in front of the mirror. The three quarter sleeves covered her bruising arms, yet let just enough shoulder show that it still appeared to be very youthful and feminine.

"The gown?" she asked Lacie.

"Oh yes, its just lovely. The color brings out your eyes."

She had no idea how the gown found its way to her bed while she was bathing and neither Emma or Lacie were ready to explain anytime soon, if they knew anything at all. She would remind herself later to ask Erik. Right now, she had to get downstairs to play hostess.

Her wiggling impatience made Emma groan at her, "Please, just another lace and I am finished….yes…there…you are ready." She stood back and looked at her. "Indeed, you are gorgeous."

"Thank you Emma."

"You look wonderful, Madame." Lacie said.

"Lacie…you do not have to call me Madame…Danielle will do."

"Monsieur Erik has told us that we must refer to you as Madame, to keep in practice while the Vicomtess is present."

She glanced at Emma, who nodded. "Yes, he told us this morning we were not to refer to you as Danielle, even in private..."

"I suppose, for the sake of this ruse, I can understand his reasoning. But when it is over, no more Madame. Danielle only, is that understood?"

Both maids nodded emphatically and the discussion was over.

"Well, wish me luck." she gathered herself as she headed for the door.

* * *

"Why, Erik, your music room is simply divine!" Christine exclaimed after she was shown inside by Lacie. "Much different than your old home, of course."

"I left that home and life behind, Christine. Very few things remain that were not destroyed in the fire, of course." He gestured to a small glass enclosure where a few pieces of burned sheet music sat, an old black, soot encrusted candelabra, along with his beloved Persian music box. She walked over and looked inside, almost reminiscing.

"That is all the remains?"

"Yes. All that could be salvaged by myself and Monsieur Bernard."

"Your pipe organ?"

"Gone." He replied almost detached.

"The mirrors?"

"Broken."

She swallowed, "The swan bed?"

"Burned beyond repair."

She let out a sigh and shook her head, turning back to the display. "Such a shame."

"Why is that?" he asked. "Things change, times change…people change. It is a fact of life." He chose to remain at his piano, which had a great view of the open door that led to the foyer and to the first steps of the staircase. He wanted to be right there to see Danielle come down for the first time. He crossed his fingers that the gown he had sent over from Madame Boudreaut in the wee hours of the morning was the right size and style for her. He had ordered it sight unseen yesterday evening, only specifying a color….green. It was a color he had yet to see her wear.

"Well…" Christine started to say as she turned around to look at him. "I guess because everything that meant something to you is now gone. It is the first place that you brought me, the first place you sang and played for me and…" she stopped cold, realizing he was not looking her way. Had he even heard a word she said? "Erik, are you even…"

Danielle had just stepped off the last step of the staircase when she looked into the open door of the music room and saw Erik standing by the piano. Had he been there waiting for her? It almost seemed as if he beamed at her, his eyes glistened like light green emeralds. She could not help but almost feel a bit giddy at the sight of him standing there wearing his black trousers and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. No jacket, no vest or cravat. It was _his_ look and he wore it with style.

Erik's heart leapt at the sight of her. The gown was a perfect match in every way. Not only did it fit her faultlessly, it was also a most attractive color. It almost made her skin glow, her soft, strawberry blonde hair shined by contrast. His eyes flew to her bodice, which accentuated the ivory skin of her bosom, just dotted with small freckles. Instantly, he could feel his body strain as he tried to hold back his growing want.

Danielle heard the incessant chatter of the Vicomtess suddenly cease and gathered herself, quickly walking inside, ready to play her part, "Good morning, love." She addressed him pleasantly.

He reached for her hand and kissed it, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

"Very, and later than I should have. I noticed you rose early. When I woke, you were gone. I find that I do not wish to grow accustomed to feeling your side of the bed cold."

Erik glanced slightly at Christine, taken back by Danielle's words, but was amused by them nonetheless. Her normally quiet, sweet voice was now sodden with a sultriness that he had not heard before.

And he liked it.

Alas, he wished her words were true. If they had been, he would have been determined that his side of the bed would never be cold.

The sight of the loving newlywed couple made Christine blanch, but she put on a cordial tone for the sake of socialization. The sooner Madame Renault was out of the room, the better. "Madame Renault, it is so nice to see you again." She came forward to her.

Danielle pasted a smile for the Vicomtess and replied, "My apologies, I did not immediately see you…it is so lovely to see you again, Vicomtess, welcome to our home."

Christine sucked in a breath, "Thank you very kindly. I hope to find you in better health today. Such a shame you had to leave the party due to a silly little headache. Surely, you are not one of those who succumb to a headache at the first little upset."

Danielle's lips curled in a satisfied sneer.

"I appreciate your concern, but I am quite well thank you. My headaches tend to follow moments of great _annoyance_, nothing more."

Erik inhaled sharply at Danielle's reply. Christine was not amused, but had trouble determining if what was said was truly meant as an insult as it appeared that Danielle's tone and demeanor was not in the least bit arrogant.

"I was just admiring some of the items that Erik kept from his old home at the opera house. A shame that you never got to see it, Madame Renault, it was quite extraordinary. I had the pleasure of visiting there a couple of times myself." She gestured to the glass enclosure.

Danielle had noticed the items behind the glass the last time she was in there with Erik, but chose not to ask. Now, she wished she had, just for knowledge's sake. She gathered herself anyway. "Oh yes, lovely items indeed, but…well, as you can see..." she gestured around the room at the fine things he had purchased in the past year, "Erik now tends to put the things from his past…uh, shall we say…on a shelf? Collecting dust, if you will, as he moves on to his future…"

Christine's eyes narrowed into slits, her hands balling up into fists at her side. Danielle did not change her stance, preferring to look up at Erik and say, "…is that not right, darling?"

He gave her a smile and a small wink, then turned to Christine, "Perhaps we should begin our lesson, Chris….uh….Vicomtess. I wish to take my wife out later."

"Oh yes, I understand. In fact my time is limited and I have no need for idle chatting today myself, as I have to attend my final gown fitting before returning here for our afternoon lesson." She answered quickly, with a glare to Danielle.

Danielle's eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. Afternoon lesson? She certainly had not expected that. She glanced at Erik but he simply shrugged his shoulders helplessly and said, "Yes, of course. Danielle is very understanding, is that not right?"

She relaxed her gaze and replied to Christine, "Of course, it is quite understandable. I hear that, at this point, you need all the help you can get." Erik lowered his head to contain his amusement and kissed Danielle on the cheek before moving to sit behind the piano. She smiled back at him. "The sooner the lesson is finished, the sooner the Vicomtess can go about her other important duties. So, if the two of you will excuse me…."

She walked to the door, stopped and turned around to Erik and said, "And perhaps after the afternoon lesson is finished, darling….we could request that Emma bring us our dinner to our bedroom instead?"

Then she left the music room, closing the door behind her, leaving Erik with a satisfied smirk and Christine in stunned silence.

* * *

"So, as you can see, Monsieur Mancia, these startling revelations must be kept out of the public eye for the sake of the Opera House…." Richard said to him as he sat behind his desk at the Opera House after listening to the young man tell him everything about Danielle….their past, the fake name, Jean-Pierre's deception, and most importantly, about the baby. He took a swig of brandy to give him time to sort it out.

"You realize just how incredible this all is." He said, hissing down the strong liquid.

"Of course I do, but I have evidence to back up my claims."

"Yes? And what is that?"

"I sent a special courrier to St-George church in Boscherville where they were apparently married; he wired back and said there was no record of them having married a couple six months ago by the names of Erik Renault and Danielle, or Daniella or Marie, or anyone like that. The courrier will be returning to me later tonight with a copy of the records."

Mancia shook his head, "Then what do you plan to do?"

"Very simple, I have scheduled a Board meeting of all the investors and owners for day after tomorrow, the day after the grand opening. At that time, I will present this evidence to them and inform them that if they do not get rid of Erik Renault immediately from any investment purposes concerning the opera house I will go to the Époque and expose him and the board's unwillingness to get rid of such a scandal."

Mancia's mouth dropped, his double chin flopping in front of his tight collar. "This is madness."

"Perhaps, but did I not hear you say, just a day after the party, that Erik Renault was becoming too powerful and that you regretted ever helping him gain majority control?"

"Only because he has yet to cut me in on the percentages he promised me. I might wish to destroy him financially, but I have no qualms with his wife…."

"Danielle is insignificant. If all goes well, I plan to move my wife and children back here to my family home and work on regaining majority control over the opera house."

"But you could do that without resorting to such public measures…" He paused, then spoke again, "….wait, did you not tell me that you were going to be at the grand opening tomorrow night also? Why not just confront Renault in private? He might curtail to blackmail rather than have his wife disgraced."

"Oh, I intend on confronting Danielle alone, only to find out where my child is. I plan on telling her that if she simply cooperates with me, I will prevent anyone from removing her husband from the opera house. Of course, when she tells me where the child is, I certainly do not plan on keeping my end of the bargain. Besides, I know of Monsieur Renault's past…I know he has no problem killing anyone in his way. I prefer not to deal with the man in private." He rubbed his throat thoughtfully. "Have you not ever heard the old saying, 'keep your hand at the level of your eyes'? Well, that is exactly what I am doing…metaphorically speaking."

Mancia went silent, as any further argument would prove futile; Dupré had made up his mind. As much as he loved the thought of having Erik out of the opera house now, he knew that if Erik went, so did any chance of him seeing his percentages. Plus, he did like Danielle, a lot. He mused many a night about the treasures of beauty that was in the Renault house, and not just with the lady of the house, but with the hired help. With Erik gone, he knew the man would have no more use for him and therefore would never be invited to his home again. But, despite all that, he knew what he had to do. He would go at once to Erik and warm him of Monsieur Dupré's findings and plan.

"So, are you in agreement, Monsieur?" Richard asked, impatiently tapping on Mancia's desk with a dried fountain pen.

Mancia nodded, "Yes, we are."

"And of course, you will keep silent about this, not a soul must know of my plans."

With a sly grin that made his fat cheeks bubble, Mancia replied, "Of course."

* * *

Danielle had time while Erik was tutoring Christine to take closer inspection of his garden. Wrapped just in a soft cashmere shawl over her arms, the cold air did not even seem to bother her as the sun was shining bright and warm above.

Nearly four hours had passed since she had left them alone in the music room. She had gone all over the house, looked at every room, inspected every sculpture and even followed Lacie around on her daily cleaning chores, begging to help, but getting refused.

She was bored.

What did high society women do during the day anyway? She had read through at least three literature books that Erik had in the Rose Room. She had rearranged every knickknack shelf she could find and had even taken to sneaking down to the kitchen, to help clean or mop the floor, only to be found and playfully shushed away by Gisèle, Erik's cook.

"What could they be doing in there?" she asked herself out loud as she bent over to touch a light colored leafy vine that was running along a trellis at the side of the house. "What could possibly be so important that would keep them four hours?"

"Three hours, forty-five minutes, to be exact," came a voice behind her. She turned to find Erik walking slowly towards her, taking long, luxurious strides. She found that extremely appealing and could not take her eyes off of him. He held up his pocket watch to show her as he approached. "I kept a close watch on the hour."

"Then you intended to keep the Vicomtess to such a late hour."

"Actually, no, and for that, I apologize. She was most stubborn and a few times I refused to continue until she calmed down."

"Oh?"

"Yes, frustration, mind you. She has never had problems with her voice in the past, yet for a long time I had always told her that the voice must never go unused or she would lose it. She did not believe me. Now, she is learning the hard way. Needless to say, she is not taking it well."

"Will she be able to do the role?"

He smiled down at her, "Yes, I believe so. She is willing for the most part to try, and that helps. But let us not talk about her anymore, she has gone." He offered his arm to her and she took it gratefully. "I wish to talk about you."

"What about me?"

"What did you do in my absence?"

"Well, I ventured into some of the rooms and looked around, I read some books, offered to help Lacie clean, snuck down to the kitchen…"

He laughed, "In other words, you were bored."

"Horribly so!" she returned his laugh.

"I apologize, I know you are not used to being idle during the day. Is there anything I can get for you that would help?"

"I would like to do some sewing. Maybe even some embroidery or smocking. I had some projects started at home."

"I will send Jules for them, if you wish. Tomorrow?"

"Lacie promised that she and I would visit the stables tomorrow after she finished her chores. Jacques said he would saddle us some horses if the weather was nice. Perhaps the day after the party? I will be sure to tell Jules where I left the sewing kit."

"Anything you wish." He then regarded her gown, "I hope the garment is satisfactory, it truly becomes you." He said.

"It is beautiful, thank you."

"The courrier from Madame Boudreaut's shop informed me that she has several more gowns similar to this and would be happy for you to have them. When we pick out your gown for the grand opening, you can look at the other ones and pick which ones you prefer."

She taunted playfully, "and if I wish to have them all?"

"Then, of course, you shall have them all." He answered simply, not understanding the humor.

She could not help but giggle. "Oh Erik…I do not require so many garments. I shall pick two that are sufficient."

"Just two? A lady needs more than two." He stopped on the veranda and looked down at her. "I wish to give you all you need, do you not understand that?"

"I have all that I need. I have a roof over my head, I have food, I have clothing…"

"Then tell me all that you wish, desire, want…anything. Just tell me and it is yours."

She stared into his eyes, "First of all, I wish for freedom, the freedom that Father has denied me for so long, Erik. Can you give me that?"

He took a small step closer and placed one arm around her waist, while his other hand brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers delicately, "Yes. You are free to come and go as you please here, the carriage and Jacques are at your disposal."

She sighed, but continued, "And I desire happiness, laughter and friendship. Can you give me that?"

"Yes." He put both arms around her now and pulled her gently to his body, "Your laughter has already been heard ringing through these empty halls….Emma and Lacie may be my employees, but they like you very much and wish for your friendship."

"And yours?"

He nodded, then fell silent.

Another pause, another awkward moment when two people wish to say so much that they cannot form a single word.

"And want?" he finally asked.

"Want?" her mind could hardly function.

_Snap out of it, Danielle!_

"I _want_…"

He leaned down to her, his lips brushing her cheek, his fingers wrapping around her soft, long hair, letting it flow through his fingers like water, "Yes, Danielle, what do you _want_?"

"I only want…you."

She gripped his hair in her hands and she pulled him to her lips as an almost desperately hungry and all consuming passion swept through her, their kiss so hard that she was sure her lips would bruise, but did not care. Erik bent at the knees and wrapped his arms around her even tighter before standing and lifting her off her feet, their kiss never breaking. He walked over to the chaise on the veranda and laid her gently down upon it. His hands stroked her neck delicately, his thumbs moving up and down just below her ears and she gasped at the wonderful sensation as she felt his body settle down upon hers, neither caring that they were in full view of anyone who might pass by the foyer and see them.

"Oh, Erik, I love when you touch me like that…" she whimpered as she broke away from his intense kiss, panting to gather her breath, determined to dive in for another.

He could barely contain his growing desire, "I wish to continue pleasing you. Tell me…tell me how you wished to be touched, Danielle…." His hips moved against her almost lazily as his lips brushed along her jaw line.

She could only whimper in response, her mind racing with all the possible things he could do to her, the feelings he could bring out in her, if she just let him. And she _would_ let him.

But….

From the foyer, they could both hear Jacques calling out as he searched for them, "Monsieur? Madame? The carriage is waiting outside!"

With a frustrated groan, Erik pulled away, giving himself a few moments to cool his body down before saying, "I shall have him shot for this," half joking, half serious.

She let out a soft snicker, sitting up slowly to gather her thoughts and straighten her hair, and dress. "You shall have him shot, I shall have him beheaded." She looked right at him and they both started to laugh.

He shifted his weight then and felt it, the bulge in his pocket and gave a deep, throaty laugh. "I almost forgot."

"She regarded him curiously, then also noticed something protruding from the pocket of his trousers. "What _is_ that?"

"Something very important…" he pulled out from his pocket the all too familiar little velvet box. Danielle knew exactly what it was now. She had not forgotten about it. Even thought it was only on her finger for a short time, she felt the loss.

He opened the box and took the ring from it. "I was going to give it to you earlier this morning before Christine's arrival, but you were bathing. I do not believe she noticed its absence." He took her hand and placed the ring on her finger.

"I missed it." She said as she fingered the ring admiringly.

"It belongs on your hand only, Danielle. No matter what happens, promise never to take it off again, please."

"I promise, Erik. This ring shall never leave my finger."

He stood and helped her to her feet, hearing all he needed to hear. "Let us go to Madame Boudreaut's now, but tonight… I am giving everyone the night off and we shall not be disturbed, I promise you." He placed her hand on his arm and they started into the house.

That idea she liked, a lot.

* * *

**A/N: Again, thank you so much for all the great reviews coming in! A special thanks has to go out to April Rane for spamming me on one of her own stories! THANK YOU! Support and encouragement is always accepted. So...just for those who are asking when they will inevitably make their love official...its coming VERY SOON! Nope, won't say more than that. Plenty will happen to Danielle and Erik before AND after. ;) Stay tuned...**


	18. Chapter 18

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Eighteen:

Danielle's laughter could be heard all the way into the house as Emma ran down the staircase to open the door for them. Outside, just exiting the carriage were Danielle and Erik. Jacques was already ahead of them, holding several packages in his arms, while Danielle was reaching to carry two very attractive hat boxes.

Emma came outside, holding the door open wider for Jacques to go ahead of her. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Erik, Madame Danielle." She said loudly, almost too loudly, her eyes shifting towards the house. Her emphasis on the word _Madame_, a word she had not used in regards to Danielle, did not go unnoticed by either of them.

"Good afternoon, Emma." Danielle said very stuffily, knowing something wasn't right and she needed to play along. She then turned to Jacques, "Put my purchases in the bedroom, Jacques, and careful not to mess them up."

Erik nodded at Emma, then leaned in close to her, "What is wrong?" he asked.

"Monsieur…" her voice was barely audible, "That detestable Monsieur Mancia is here, he has been waiting in your library for a half hour now, I did not wish for either of you to enter the house until you were forewarned."

Erik let out a groan, but patted Emma on the arm, "Thank you, Emma, always a safe precaution."

Danielle sighed. More interruptions. What in the world did he want now? "Were you expecting him?" she asked Erik.

Just as he shook his head no, the three of them suddenly heard a blood curdling scream coming from inside the house.

"What the…" Erik muttered as he ran for the open front door, with Danielle and Emma following close behind.

Once they entered the foyer, it was evident what caused the scream:

Lacie was standing two steps up the staircase, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with a fearful stare and now brimming with tears. On the floor in front of her was Monsieur Mancia, on one knee, holding his jaw, streams of blood pouring and pooling onto the marble floor. Standing over him was Jacques, rubbing his hand and looking down at Mancia with an angry, but satisfied glare. "If you ever touch her again, I shall not stop myself so quickly." The young man hissed in a low and menacing tone, "But if you prefer, we can continue this outside, now….."

While the ladies gasped, Erik ran over and stood by Jacques, holding him back with one arm over his chest.

"What happened here?" his voice was authoritative, but not angry.

"Did you not hear? He has threatened me!" Mancia gurgled with a mouthful of blood. He took his handkerchief and put it against his split lip.

"Monsieur…" Lacie began but was so overcome she was not able to speak. Emma ran over to her and then noticed her torn dress.

So did Erik.

"Monsieur, I came down from the bedroom after delivering Madame's packages to find Lacie running toward me from the library, her gown was torn. She was hysterical…Monsieur Mancia…was coming after her. I did not ask what happened, Monsieur, I simply….stopped him." Jacques growled under clenched teeth.

Emma went pale, realizing she had not warned Lacie to stay away from the library due to Mancia's presence. "Oh my, I did not know she would clean the library today, she was in the kitchen and…."

"I…went….to the library…Monsieur Erik asked me to retrieve some books for Madame Danielle….and…" Lacie started sobbing then, but managed to continue, "he offered me a job in his home. I refused. He got angry and tried to grab me, but he got my skirt instead and it ripped…yet, he did not stop…I ran and saw Jacques and….." Emma held the frightened girl to her as Danielle came next to her and squatted down. She took her hand and held it.

"The bloody nerve!" she glared at Mancia, then back at Erik.

Erik's eyes grew dark and cold then as Mancia managed to stand and began to rant, "Monsieur Renault! Is this the kind of household you run? A household where a gentleman like myself is assaulted by a _servant_?"

Erik approached and got in his face, staring him down, "No, I do not run a household like that, but I do run a household where my _employee_ can defend a woman who is being accosted by a …." he spat out, "…_gentleman_."

"I insist you take this young man to the police, immediately!"

"No one will go to the police!" Erik almost screamed in the man's face. "I told you the last time you touched my employee that I would not be so accommodating. You are treading on thin ice, Mancia. Do not get me angrier than I am now by insinuating police involvement. If I had known for a second what he was doing before I came in here, I promise you, I would have allowed him to _kill_ you! You are no longer welcome in my home, any business in the future will be conducted at the opera house. If you come here again, I will not prevent any repercussions. Do I make myself clear?"

Holding his cheek, Mancia chose wisely not speak another word.

_Bloody fool! He has just signed his own ticket to the poor house! Let Dupré have him! _

He moved away from Erik, threw a harsh glare at Jacques, and left the house.

Everyone let out a breath, even Erik.

"Monsieur, I apologize…" Jacques started, leaning in away from the ladies view, but Erik threw up his hand.

"No apologies, you did what any gentleman would do…or a man in love…"

Both men went over to where the ladies were sitting on the staircase. Jacques took Lacie in his arms and held her, stroking her hair, allowing her to cry. Erik leaned behind Danielle and put his hand to the small of her back.

She turned to him and smiled, "Now perhaps would be a good time to give them the night off." She suggested.

"Of course, a sensible idea." He leaned in and kissed her hair, then looked at Emma. "Take Lacie and clean her up, then pass the word around that everyone has the night off."

"Umm…I wonder why Monsieur Mancia was here to begin with," she said as she brushed the back of her hand against Erik's cheek. They watched silently for a few moments as Emma, Lacie and Jacques left for Lacie's bedchamber.

"Sighing heavily, he held Danielle hand as she stood and replied, "I do not know, but it must not have been very important."

* * *

As Erik remained in his music room, preparing for Christine's arrival, Danielle had spent time putting away her gowns before deciding to go down into the library to retrieve the books that he had initially sent Lacie for. When she walked inside, she was astonished to find several books on the floor. She surmised that they had been left by Lacie's abrupt departure from the library and began to pick them up, stacking them neatly on the coffee table so she could look through them. Yet, within minutes, her eyes scanned the immaculate library, looking it over as if it was the first time she had been in it. Perhaps, in a way, it was.

She noticed things she had never noticed before… from the dark mahogany beams that ran along the high ceiling, to the meticulous, rather ornate carvings etched in the legs of the desk, to the most delicate looking porcelains figurines she had ever seen that sat in a glass enclosure along the wall behind it. She studied them closely, wondering where he got the lovely pieces when something else caught her eye. Draped across his desk chair was a jacket. A long, black velvet smoking jacket. It was the first thing she noticed Erik wearing during their first meeting…after the mask of course. In fact, during that same meeting, she found herself staring at it, noticing its smartly embroidered gold detailing around the neck and sleeves. It was perhaps the only thing that kept her from a total nervous breakdown.

How long ago it seemed since that first meeting, her mind recalled as she stood and walked over to the desk chair. She ran her finger along the jacket. It was as smooth as she had perceived. She lifted it from the back of the chair and held it close to her. Inhaling, she could smell him as if he was right in the room with her. Then she giggled…she wanted to put it on. _A silly time to be playing dress up_, she thought to herself, but she was free to do as she wished, and she wished to have it wrapped around her…as she wished Erik's arms were around her.

There was no mirror in the library, so after she put the jacket on and wrapped it around her, holding up the excess that pooled in the floor at her feet, she walked over to the window and caught her reflection. She rubbed the soft arm sleeves with her hands up and down. She playfully spun around, the light fabric billowing out from her. That made her laugh.

"I daresay, you look much nicer in my garment than I do." Erik's unmistakable voice broke the silence of the room. She turned to find him leaning against doorframe to the entrance of the library, his arms folded over his chest.

At that moment, she could not help but think he was the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. "How long have you…? She gasped.

"Long enough to see you enjoying my library in my absence."

"You should not sneak up on people and eavesdrop."

"Perhaps not, and perhaps you should not touch things that do not belong to you." He retorted playfully.

"I…do not know…." She started.

"May I remind you that you are wearing the evidence, Mademoiselle."

She looked down and blushed, "Oh…I suppose so."

He laughed then and she instantly felt herself at ease.

She turned away and headed toward the desk again to replace the jacket where it belonged, "I will remove it if you so desire."

"Danielle…." He sighed deeply, his voice dipping low and smooth, "There are many things I so desire…so wish for you to remove for me….I can assure you that jacket is the last thing I am concerned with."

"Umm…" her voice stammered. How could she possibly respond to that? She turned and looked at him. My God this was truly insane! He could make a smile come to her lips anytime, and with not so much as a single word. Finally, she gathered herself and changed the subject slightly, "Did you have this made? It is an immaculate garment." She figured it was simply safer that way. After all, he was there, she was there….and there was a couch, a chair…a floor….and they were alone.

"It is a replica of one I had when I lived in the opera house. That one was destroyed in the fire. That same tailor made me this one."

"Well, I do say he did a lovely job with the detailing." She let it slowly slide off her body before she gathered it and replaced it on the desk chair. Erik groaned in response but dared not move an inch.

There was a knock on the door and Emma could be heard running down the staircase to answer it. Erik peeked outside the door a minute later to see her coming towards him.

"I thought you all had left." He told her as she approached.

Emma was almost breathless, "We are, Monsieur…I just wanted to tell you that the Vicomtess has arrived. Jacques is showing her into the music room now."

Danielle grimaced and Emma could hear her snort behind the door.

"Thank you." Erik told Emma as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of francs and put them into her hand. "And here, divide this up among everyone…let them enjoy their evening off."

Emma bowed and thanked Erik profusely as she ran back up the stairs again to join Lacie.

When Erik turned back to Danielle, she had come to the door and was smiling. "That was awfully kind of you to do that." She told him.

He kissed her hand, "They are all very loyal and hardworking, they deserve a night away….and we deserve…"

Pounding piano keys came rising up from the music room and it made both of them groan in frustration…again.

"It appears that the Vicomtess is already growing impatient." Erik said in the most put off tone he could muster.

"Go to her, then. I have to put away my gowns upstairs, then I shall sit and read something until you are finished."

He nodded with a small grin, "That will not be long, I assure you."

She playfully shoved his shoulders, "Good, then go, the sooner you start…"

But he was out the door so fast she could not even finish her sentence.

* * *

Two books, a repaired torn hem and a walk in the garden later and still no sign of Erik and Christine emerging from the closed music room. Danielle had not heard a note or a song from inside for nearly twenty minutes and she could not help but wonder what they were doing. Finally, healthy doses of desperation and curiosity demanded she go to the music room and knock, hoping Erik would not be upset at the interruption. Yet, once she actually reached the door, she stopped, her mind debating.

"No, it is not right…I cannot interrupt…but…he has been in there a long time now…." She spoke softly as she sunk into a wooden bench next to the door, now hearing the faint voices of a conversation, wishing the door and walls were thin enough to hear what they were saying.

"I can no longer concentrate, Erik!" Christine whined as she slammed the music sheets down onto the piano.

Erik sighed again. His patience was wearing thin. All he had hoped was to get one run through all the arias, then dismiss her. Yet after two hours, they had barely gotten through three of them. "I am growing tired of this, Christine. We cannot be here all night…"

She saw his impatience, turned from him and went over to the small chaise, threw herself upon it and began to sob. Rolling his eyes, he followed her, sitting down on the edge of the chaise.

"Why must you be so cruel and unfeeling, Erik?" she managed to say through her whimpering.

"Will you at least tell me what is bothering you?" he asked. "I noticed you have been distracted ever since you arrived."

She sat up and suddenly began to blurt out everything so quickly, Erik could barely grasp it. A fight between her and Raoul…something about Madame Dupré's daughter….accusations…Raoul calling her a spoiled brat and leaving…

"You have no proof that your husband did anything inappropriate regarding Mademoiselle Dupré." He tried to get her to see reason, but she was not buying it.

"I do not have to have proof, I saw them at the party! They were inseparable! Then…I go home this afternoon after leaving here to find her sitting in the parlor with him! There was no one there but the two of them!" she started sobbing again. "I ran in and told him to tell her to leave immediately. He refused! That is when he called me a spoiled brat. I could not believe it! He is the one who is being deceitful and suddenly I'm spoiled. Well, he left, saying he would take her home, but by the time I was to leave to come here, he had not returned."

He could only shake his head. "I am sorry that you and the Vicomte are having problems, but you have two weeks before the inauguration, you should not let it affect your…."

"All I could do was think about you, Erik." She suddenly blurted out, "You would have never done that to me, you would have never called me a spoiled brat…you never would have even looked at Mademoiselle Dupré. I knew you loved me and I….."

He put his hand on her shoulder, "None of that matters now, Christine. Things happen for a reason. You did the right thing by leaving me for the Vicomte, and although you may not believe it now, he is good for you, you are good for one another."

"No, no….i realize it, I never got over you." She sat up fully and faced him. She put both hands on either side of his face and before he could react, she had slipped the mask off of his face.

"Christine…no!" he moved to put his hand over his face as he reached for the mask, but she held his arm and threw the mask to other side of the room. It landed with a loud clank as it hit a metal sculpture.

As Danielle approached the door to try and hear more, she heard something that sounded like metal hitting the floor. She frowned and decided she had to see what was happening. Slowly she pushed back the door, her mouth open to speak, but when she saw Christine and Erik on the chaise, his back to her, she quickly closed it and simply listened.

"You were not so shy the last time I saw your face, alone. It was so long ago, yet it feels like yesterday." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "When I saw you at the party and our eyes met, all the time simply slipped away. I knew then, although I could never tell Raoul, I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you. We were meant to be one…you my Angel of Music….the Don Juan to my Amenita…

She was slowly inching her way closer, pressing her body to his but he was almost unaware, he could only stare into her eyes, her words almost too much for him to handle. For a moment it was if the floodgates of hope had opened up to him. His Christine, dear Christine was his for the taking. Yet, just as suddenly as the gates opened, they shut. Hard. After so long, waiting, longing, wishing….she was finally confessing her love….and it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Christine…" he tried to speak.

Then she kissed him.

He gripped her shoulders in immediate response, trying to push her away, but she fought him, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep his mouth on hers.

Danielle's hand flew to her mouth as she saw them in their strong and seemingly passionate embrace. She wanted to run…wanted to be anywhere else but there…

Erik's mind instantly flashed to Danielle. Passion swept through his body as now, instead of Christine's lips that he tasted, it was hers…Danielle…._his Danielle_. And only then did he move his hands from her shoulders to her waist as he lost himself in the fantasy and deepened the kiss.

Danielle waited, crying inwardly, begging for him to stop, to push her away, but he didn't. Her heart broke at the sight. Finally, she willed her legs to move and she fled away from the door and up the staircase, never looking back, never hearing what happened next….

"Oh, Danielle…" Erik murmured softly against her lips…Christine's lips.

Her very audible gasp of shock made his eyes fly open.

Oh, God, what had he done?

Still holding to her shoulders, he looked down at Christine's disappointed face.

"You kissed me….but…."

"I called my wife's name, yes." He said, breathless.

"But, you kissed _me_!" her eyes brimmed with tears.

"No, Christine, you kissed me." He released her shoulders and continued, "You do not seem to understand that I have no love for you, not anymore. You leaving me a year ago was the best thing you could have done and I thank you. If not, I would surely have been either dead or living miserably in some dark cave somewhere, afraid of my own shadow, depending on you to do everything for me. No, Christine…I am no longer your Angel of Music. I am Erik Renault… and I love my wife."

He stood from the chaise and went over to the other side of the room to retrieve his mask. When he did, he calmly replaced it as Christine jumped to her feet. "I do not believe you!"

"Believe it."

"You will change your mind in time, Erik. Danielle will never be what I am to you."

He smirked, "You are right, Christine, Danielle will _never_ be what you are to me…a part of my past." He then regarded his watch. "It is growing late and I believe our lesson is finished…."

"This is not over, Erik. We can discuss this tomorrow morning when I return for my morning lesson. I know we can work this out if we just…" She snorted loudly as she grabbed her cloak and threw it around her shoulders.

Erik went to the piano and picked up her sheet music and in handing it to her, he said simply, "There will be no more lessons."

"What? But the…"

He walked over to the window and waved outside, summoning Christine's carriage driver who ran inside quickly, but Erik motioned for him to wait in the foyer. He took her by the arm and walked her to the library door.

"I see now that tutoring you is no longer sensible. You are too distracted. If you wish to continue your part in this opera, then you will continue with Monsieur René. If not, I will work to replace you as quickly as possible. Until then, I suggest you return to your husband and tell him to fetch Monsieur René at once. Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I have kept my wife waiting long enough."

It was only after he watched Christine's carriage leave then he suddenly realized…the door had been open the whole time.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. This chapter is a bit short, but you'll understand why later. Chapters 18 and 19 are posted together for obvious reasons. -big wink- Hope you enjoy it and keep those reviews coming! Love to all, Melissa**


	19. Chapter 19

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

Rated M (this chapter only)

* * *

Chapter Nineteen:

Danielle could just barely see through the hedges as Christine's carriage left, much sooner than she had anticipated, or hoped. She wasn't ready to deal with Erik just yet…much too much to sort out. Leaning her forehead against the cool pane that frosted with each breath, her mind raced, replaying exactly what she had seen just a mere few minutes earlier in the music room.

She had not mistaken what she had seen. They _were_ kissing. She could still see Erik's harsh, almost possessive grasp on the Vicomtess' shoulders. Her soft, breathless, inaudible cries, his kiss deepening...

"Stop it." she shuddered and turned away from the window. How could she have been so impetuous to come here and risk it all? Emma, dear kind Emma had been so wrong. She had _not_ made the right decision after all.

"Tonight..." she whispered as she walked over to the couch at the end of the ballroom, "...stay clear of him tonight, and when Jacques returns tomorrow with the carriage...he can take me to Versailles...yes...just leave...let him make an excuse at the Grand Opening, none of this is worth it..."

Erik had already put Christine out of his mind as he turned to the doorway and saw it ajar.

_Bloody hell_….His heart began to beat faster in his chest and his hands went clammy. He had heard no movement, no creaking of the heavy door, no shocked gasping reaction. Dear heavens…but it was so evident she had been there, she had seen something, but just how much?

... and now, she was nowhere to be seen.

He walked up to the door and scanned the empty foyer with narrowed eyes. He had to know….had to explain, so he immediately ran upstairs to her room. After an almost frantic knock, he waited. No response. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, only to see the room eerily empty. "Danielle?" he called out as he started down the empty hallway, throwing the doors open room to room, but he never saw her, never heard a response.

_You fool!_ He ran downstairs and called out her name in the garden, but it was growing dusk and colder by the minute, surely she would not be out there alone. Cursing silently, berating himself for his moment of weakness, he ran for the last room at the very end of the house, the ballroom.

Finally he reached for the doorknob but gasped when he found it locked. _Finally!_ She had to be there.

"Danielle!" he called out as she shook the door but the weighty mahogany would not budge. "I know you are in there, please open the door, I have to talk to you."

Danielle's head flew up as she heard the door knob being shook and Erik calling her name. She remained silent, in no mood to speak to him now, or any time that night. She would do her speaking in the morning as she was leaving.

"Please, talk to me! Let me know you are alright!"

Again, more silence.

"Danielle!" he banged on the door, almost growling now. "For God's sake, speak to me or I shall break down this door!"

"Go away." Her finally answered, voice was deep and low. Maybe it would be enough to appease him, she surmised.

In that one instant…in her sullen tone, he knew for sure. She _had_ seen. There is no other explanation for her sudden mood change. He shook the door more anxiously. "Danielle, let me explain everything!" he tried again and waited for her response.

"Leave me alone!" she finally screamed as loud as her voice would carry. "I have nothing to say to you tonight!"

He grunted in frustration and realized there would only be one thing left to do. He took a step back and, gathering his strength, he kicked the door as hard as he could. It flew open with a loud crashing noise.

She jumped, screaming as her hand flew to her mouth, her legs gathering under her as she almost cowered at one end of the large leather couch. "Are you insane?" she shrieked.

Erik's eyes scanned around the large room, then immediately ran to Danielle, falling to his knees on the floor next to the couch. He reached for her hands but she resisted, pulling away, her eyes wide. He knew he'd scared her by his sudden violent entrance, but he felt he had no other choice. "Danielle... I only ask that you listen to what I have to say", he pleaded, his eyes searching hers.

"There is nothing left to say, I know what I saw! You won, Erik, she is yours now." She turned away from him, both arms crossed over her body protectively.

All Erik wanted to do was to take her in his arms, but he knew she would push him away, so he reluctantly respected her need for space. "Oh, Danielle..." he whispered, "…how I understand the way you feel. I will not sit here and deny what you saw. Christine kissed me. But it was all that happened. She kissed me and I pushed her away, that is why she left immediately, she did not think I would reject her, but I just could not...", his voice trailed off and he moved to look into her eyes.

"I am no fool. It was your lips upon hers...it was _your_ hands that gripped her shoulders...indeed, Erik...you did not appear to be suffering from the pain of an unwanted advance..." She let her tears flow freely, no longer caring if he saw.

His heart sunk at the sight of her tears streaming down her face, knowing he was the cause of her suffering. Again, he had let her down, "I do not want to make excuses, but... without a doubt, my hands did grip her shoulders, in an effort to push her away. Did you not see that?"

"No, you did not push her away, you…."

"I called out your name, Danielle!"

Her head turned sharply at his words. "I do not believe you." her voice was distant and cold.

"Believe it. It was not her shoulders I grabbed….it was not her body that pressed against me….it was not her lips I tasted with such hunger I could barely contain myself….it was yours…"

The very notion was ridiculous and she could only shake her head.

"I cannot make you believe me, of course. That is something that will have to come from yourself. But I swear to you, Danielle, you were the only one on my mind then…and now." he continued earnestly, his hand still on her arm.

"Thinking of me..." she snorted loudly as she shrugged off his hand. She had heard quite enough. She jumped off the couch and stood over him. "I have had enough discussion and pitiful excuses, Erik. I shall spend the evening alone in my room, with the door locked. If you attempt to break down _that_ door, I shall leave the house completely. Believe me, I will walk all night to reach Paris if I have to." She turned away from him and started for the door.

"No!" Quick as lightning, he jumped to his feet and ran for the doorway, sliding his body between the entrance and Danielle in an effort to keep her from leaving. He put his hands on her shoulders, willing his grip to remain gentle but all he wanted to do was crush her against him and use his powers of persuasion to make her see that he was telling the truth. "Danielle," he panted, "why would I want Christine when I have you?"

Finally, she lost herself and began screaming at him as she pounded her fists into his chest. "Damn you! I am tired of your spouting how much I mean to you! Is it not obvious? She is everything you want, she always was, Erik! She is young and beautiful! Despite what you perceive, she still sings like an angel in heaven! And she has you, Erik...you! She knows your heart, your soul..." her screams faded into sobs, "...I am not a woman of class, I am not a Vicomtess, I am just a pitiful seamstress in a fledging little shop with a lunatic for a father and no one to turn to..." But just as quickly as her sobs came they disappeared, replaced by more anger as she paced around the room like a trapped animal, "No! You will not reduce me to this. Let me go, tomorrow I will go to my cousin's." She grabbed the doorframe in an attempt to get past his massive form.

Despite her words, Erik would not be deterred. It was all clear to him now. If he let her walk out the door, she would be gone forever and he simply would not accept that. He loved her, the feelings stronger than anything he had ever felt for Christine. His heart pounded harder in his chest as he came up behind her, grabbing her small body and pulled her against him.

"No!" she cried, struggling against him.

He pressed his lips to her ear and spoke with a dark, calm and determined voice, "I love you, Danielle, do you not understand that? Christine is a child, immature. I see that now. You are the only one in my thoughts, my dreams and I cannot stand the thought of losing you again, it would kill me." He panted against her as she struggled to pull away from him but still he held her, trying with all his might to break through her resistance.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her tears returning. "No one loves me!"

"I do, Danielle. Practically from the first moment we spent in here alone, dancing…do you remember…do you remember how we held one another?"

She refused to accept that he loved her, refused even the very possibility she could be loved by anyone. She loved him, but she didn't want to admit it to him or really even to herself. But it was her jealousy that chose to speak up instead. The ugly jealousy that reared its ugly head at the party…the bad part of herself that held all her fears and insecurities, threatening to destroy her heart.

"I do not love you!"

In an instant, she realized what she had said and stopped fighting, holding her breath.

His eyes widened at her words, and for one second the thought of giving up entered his mind. But then, he felt her body slump against his and he knew she had not meant a word. He slowly turned her around to face him and lifted her chin with his fingers. "Look into my eyes, Danielle, look into my eyes and tell me again that you do not love me." His voice was but a whisper. "If you mean your words, I shall let you go."

"I..." she tried to summon the strength to speak, to lie...anything she could do to get out of there and be alone. Alone, she could sort it all out. "I do not..." she tried again, but the words merely squeaked out, "...love..."

Erik shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Stop denying it…" he groaned, moments before he crushed his lips against her mouth.

A meager cry came from her throat as she tried to stop him, push him away, anything other than what he was doing. It was pointless. Damn Christine! Who cared about her anymore? Who cared if moments earlier he had his lips on hers?

She would show him, show him how he should be kissed...

She gripped his shirt in her fists as her lips parted with a deep inhale, threatening to capture every breath he dared release from his soft lips and Erik moaned as he felt the passion in Danielle's kiss. He no longer cared for a vocalized answer, he felt it at that very moment. He pulled her tightly against him, his body taut, his passion building with each passing second. He deepened the kiss then, his tongue reaching out to stroke gently yet demanding against hers, feeling no resistance as she welcomed him into her mouth. His hands slid up her back and he gripped her hair, pulling her head back to gain even better access to her kiss.

She let out a soft cry but never broke from his kiss, inwardly begging for more. There was no going back now. "Tell me again…" she panted breathlessly, "tell me she meant nothing…."

"Who, Danielle?" he responded, his lips brushing against hers, his fists full of her hair. "There is no one here but us…"

"Erik…" she melted into his arms and he instantly felt a shift in her resolve, realizing that he would not be able to control his own passion this time. Nothing would keep him from making love to her. He moaned in frustration as he finally broke the kiss. He lifted her into his arms and hesitated between carrying her up to his bedroom and walking a few steps to the couch. He growled… the sound raw and primal as he took only a few long strides to the couch and deposited Danielle's light body onto the soft leather.

"We are not...going upstairs?" she panted eagerly against his ear as she held tight around his shoulders.

He moved on top of her body, sliding her legs apart before settling between her thighs, his arousal pressing hard against her lower stomach. He panted against her neck, his lips and tongue tasting, seeking as much skin as possible. "No... time..." he whispered as he nipped at the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck."

Gasping, she arched her back, clenching her eyes shut hard. She now understood what he meant.

_No time...definitely no time..._

Erik kissed her again as his hands slid down her body. His hips rocked rhythmically against her as he gathered the fabric of her gown in his fist, lifting it up inch by inch, his palms stroking the velvety skin of her legs as they were revealed to him. He fought to control his growing need as he felt her respond beneath him, the heat coming off of her threatening to set his body aflame.

In a frantic few seconds of doubt, she wondered if she could still make love to a man after so long a celibacy...would she still know how to please him, did she still know how she wished to be pleased? But the moment faded as her body seemed to take over, for her mind simply fled at the feel of his hands on her newly bare legs, threatening to unravel her second by second. Her hands started unbuttoning his shirt in a desperate attempt to have flesh meet flesh.

He groaned as he felt Danielle's legs opening wider for him and his hips sank against her center, the heat burning him even through their layers of clothing. He stroked up her body again until he reached her bodice and his fingers found the tiny mother of pearl buttons. He lowered his mouth to her throat as one by one he undid each button with an almost agonizing anticipation until the creamy softness of the skin between her breasts was finally revealed to him. He looked up into her eyes once more, unable to utter a word but his eyes speaking volumes. He remained poised over her for a moment, then gently parted the material of her bodice and cupped her breasts with his hands.

She tried to hold his gaze, wishing to memorize every inch of the intensity he showed her, but once his hands found her breasts, neglected of a man's touch for so long, she could not help but cry out, her eyes squeezing shut. It was simply too much for her to handle at one time. She felt him growing, throbbing above her and, in automatic response, her hips rose upward, desperate to feel more.

He felt her hips undulate against him and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see her nude body. He wrenched his lips from her skin, his mouth tingling from the loss of her, then pulled himself up and knelt between her legs, gripping the edge of her gown, bunched around her hips. Slowly, he lifted the gown over her head and let it fall on the floor. He then gripped the edge of her undergarment and slowly pulled it down her hips, gasping in awe as she lifted her hips to free herself of it. He kissed the side of her knee as he threw the discarded garment on top of the gown and he finally let his eyes drink in the sight of Danielle's nude body beneath him. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and his desire reached yet another level, the throbbing of his flesh bulging tautly in his trousers.

He reached for Danielle's hands and, in a moment that threatened to tear his heart to pieces, he lifted them to his face. "Danielle... remove my mask…" he whispered, his eyes gleaming.

Now out of breath, her defences gone, naked before him, she could not fathom what courage it took for him to make that final sacrifice, to risk all in removing the final barrier between them. Her hands shaking, she braced herself for what she knew would be a bad sight, yet in her heart she knew none of it mattered.

Looking into his eyes, she peeled away the mask and it was if time stood still. She saw nothing there…no horrible disgusting disfigurement, no hideous monster… nothing but Erik.

"You are so...amazing..." she whispered softly, allowing the mask to slip from her fingers absentmindedly to the floor.

"Me…?" Erik emitted a low soft, strangled moan at her words. No one had ever told him he was amazing, certainly not when his mask was off. At that very moment, he knew that Danielle would be the last and only woman for him.

"Yes, Erik. You. Only you…" She ran her hands underneath his shirt, slowly pushing it off his shoulders, letting it catch at his elbows. God, how hot his skin was! Rising up, she brought her lips to his bad cheek and gently kissed the raised and red skin as her hand ran behind him to his lower back. As her lips brushed across his cheek, her nails raked slowly upwards, teasingly.

Erik hissed at her touch and he loved how she showed her desire in the way she touched him. He captured her lips again as he pulled his shirt out of his pants. "Danielle... please..."

She watched his shirt finally fall to the floor and she ran her hands across from his lower back to his stomach, then methodically upwards, his coarse chest hair bristling underneath her palms. Slowly, but surely, everything she felt, the passion, the intense yearning, the boldness of it all was being revealed to her again. "Are you ready for me, Erik?" she purred seductively in his ear.

He couldn't help but smirk, his eyes growing darker and darker as he reached for the waistband of his pants. "As ready as you are for me, Mademoiselle..."

Instantly, she slapped his hand away. "No." Her voice was sharp and to the point. Then with a sly smile, she whispered, "Let me...besides...is it not a wife's duty to please her...husband?" And with that, she brushed her hand across him.

His entire body stiffened at her touch and he felt his soul unravel. He was hers, it was as simple as that. His breathing deepened as he desperately sought more contact yet knowing that too much friction would cause him to explode and that is not how he wanted things to happen. He had to join his body with hers soon, or he would die. He finally could take no more and pushed her hand away with another smirk. "I think you are doing quite well in pleasing me... my wife", he said, "but I am afraid that if you keep this up, I shall not be able to please you". He playfully kissed the tip of her nose and rose long enough to slip his trousers down his legs. He immediately laid over her body once again and very quickly all traces of playfulness faded away as, for the first time, he felt her naked flesh beneath his.

When their bodies touched, she lost all train of thought. All she could see was his beautiful eyes studying her, all she could feel was the heat from his body flowing over hers...all she wanted now was for him to claim her for his own and finally become one. He rained soft kisses on her cheeks, forehead, throat as he tried to regain control of his demanding body. She felt so soft, so lush beneath him. He could not wait any longer now. He adjusted his hips and felt her gasp slightly. He looked down into her eyes, understanding her reaction. He knew it had been a long time for her, he had to be gentle. "Danielle... look at me", he whispered.

A sudden wave of nervousness shot through her as she felt him against her. In response, she tensed her body, unsure of how much pain she would be in after such a long absence.

"I..." her voice was barely a whisper.

"Shhh..." he whispered soothingly. "I shall not hurt you, my love". He held his body taut, the need to take her almost overwhelming. He took his time and let her body welcome his in her own way.

A whimper came, but she held his gaze, determined not to stop. With each passing second, her body seemed to remember, to accommodate and before long, she was moving against him in an inaudible moment of acceptance. "More..." her voice cried out, "I want more..."

At her words, all resolve crumbled and, with a thrust of his hips, their bodies joined together as one. Her nails dug deep into his shoulders as he pressed his lips to hers again, his deep groans vibrating against her hungry mouth. He explored her body with his hands as he rocked his hips more and more against her, seeking as much contact as possible, and marveling at the soft cries of pleasure coming from her lips. Her body tingled, burned with intense heat, then shivered with sensations of cold. Never had she felt anything so extraordinary in her life as she felt at the very moment her body began to tighten. An unusual sensation started at the pit of her stomach and not fully understanding what it was, she knew she had to reach for it, fight for it. Her hips moved more and more and she broke from the kiss, unable to concentrate on anything else.

Erik felt the change in Danielle's body and knew she was getting close to succumbing to her own desire, that desire that she had been without for so long. He surged above, moving her legs higher, allowing him to sink even deeper within. He moved against her even faster, determined to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could before giving in to his own need. He looked down at her, his slick hair falling into his eyes and he sensed her body shuddering beneath him.

"I do not..." her mind almost fought the new sensation he was bringing out in her, fighting the unknown. Yet, her aching body sought it like nothing she had wanted before, spurred on by Erik's encouragement. Frantically moving her hips, she flew over the edge, the shock causing her to gasp, her mouth gaping open until she could catch a deep breath that was followed by a long, wailing cry.

Erik kept his eyes on her as she convulsed beneath him, his movements never faltering. "Danielle... my beautiful Danielle..." he whispered, kissing her along her jawline and stroking her hair as she cried out in pleasure.

"What…was that…?" she managed to ask once she had gathered herself enough to utter a sound.

"You had an orgasm, my love... and I plan on giving you many, many more..."

"Oh my…"

He moaned as he simply could not hold out any longer, "Danielle, I..."

She held tight to him, feeling him shudder above her then cry out as he finally fell over the edge, his orgasm powerful and intense, his voice crying out her name over and over and she swore that if this was as close as a human could come to heaven, she surely had reached it. She rained kisses all over his neck and whispered, "Oh God Erik, how I love you..."

It was the very words he now lived to hear.

"Danielle...I love you so much..." His voice practically sang as he turned slightly to enclose her in his embrace, refusing to allow their bodies to part just yet. He gathered her in his arms, holding her tight against him, sated and content and their lips met once more but this time the kiss was not demanding, but soft and loving. It expressed all the love that he felt for her and his willingness to be with her for the rest of his life.

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**A/N: Whew...uh, nothing left to say now...**


	20. Chapter 20

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

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Chapter Twenty:

Erik awakened, the sun shining on his exposed face, not knowing or caring what time it was. Slowly he raised his head and looked down at Danielle. She was sleeping peacefully on her side next to him, looking rosy and radiant as the red bedcovering gently lay upon her hip, exposing her back to him. Very gently he moved closer, pressing himself up against her, his hand slipping under the sheet to stroke her thigh. He sighed against her hair as he recalled what had taken place the night before in the ballroom. It was paradise….as much paradise as a redeemed arsonist and murderer can dare hope for in one lifetime. He remembered how soft and warm she felt under his body, how she responded to every touch, every new sensation, until she shuddered and cried in sheer ecstasy beneath him. It could not have been more perfect.

Danielle's eyes were closed but she was slipping further and further from her dream state. She was suddenly aware of movement behind her…a hand caressing her warm thigh, a finger slowly moving her hair to the side of her neck, replaced by soft lips…. a low groan vibrating against her ear.

Her mouth could not help but form a smile.

She forced her eyes open, straining against the sunlight; momentarily unaware which room she was in, which bed she ended up in after they had left the ballroom. She focused harder and viewed the room around her for the first time in full daylight. It was definitely not hers, it must be Erik's.

"Umm….good morning…" Erik whispered hoarsely in her ear. She giggled as the air from his mouth tickled her neck.

"Good morning…" she managed to respond after hearing Erik's deep, throaty laugh. "What time is it?"

"I do not know….nor do I care."

Another soft laugh, "Neither do I. I say we do not find out."

"I was hoping you would say that." He gently tugged on her shoulder, turning her until she laid flat on her back.

"This is the first time I have seen your bedroom. If I recall, when you brought me in here, it was rather dimly lit." She smiled.

"I did not hear you complaining then, my heart."

"How could a woman in her right mind complain? Not after being made love to a second time…and a third time and…" She chuckled under her breath.

He gazed down at her and paused. How he loved her so. He questioned how he could have ever possibly thought her plain. "Dear God, what did I do to deserve you…?"

She could hardly answer that question, for she felt the same way. She simply brushed his cheek with her hand, allowing herself to lazily trail along his jawline, studying him closely a few moments before she said, "We deserve each other, Erik, we belong together."

He lowered his head, his lips ever so gently tasting hers as he wrapped his arms around her body and pulling her as close as he could. He wanted to be so close to her he was afraid he'd crush her under the sheer weight of his affection. He moved over her just long enough to sink into her embrace before he turned over onto his back, taking her with him. She straddled his waist and rose onto her elbows.

"Make love to me again, Erik….?" She whispered.

Pushing the hair out of her face with both hands to view her beautiful, sincere eyes, he answered, "I believe the household can survive without me for a little while…"

That made her smile.

"…and love? In the future…you need not ever ask for me to make love to you….simply take what is yours, I would never deny you."

Inhaling deeply, moved by his heartfelt words, she crushed her lips to his, her arms moving slowly above his head and gripping the dark wood headboard.

* * *

Emma had risen late and she ran to the kitchen to find it empty. No Gisèle. They had all come in very late the night before after spending the evening in Paris and judging by the quietness as she had left the servants house, she was the first one to rise. She checked the hall clock. Seven thirty. Erik had surely already risen and was missing his coffee and paper. She hurried to make it as she hollered back down the hall for a very hung over Lacie to go back and wake Gisèle.

Eight o'clock came before Gisèle had finished breakfast and, armed with a cup of coffee, Emma ran quickly to the dining room expecting to see Erik sitting there waiting, tapping his fingers against the table at her obvious tardiness.

But it was empty.

She sat the cup down and told Lacie to find him. Probably in the library, she told her as she started upstairs to see if Danielle was in her room. She became just as perplexed when she found that room empty also.

"Lacie!" Emma called down a couple of minutes later after searching most of the upper floor rooms. "Did you find Monsieur Erik?"

"No!" Lacie replied loudly, then held her aching head at the sound. "No, I checked the library, music room, garden, but…" she paused as she ran up the steps, an object in her hand, "…when I went to check the ballroom, I found this…" she handed Emma Erik's mask.

"What would Monsieur Erik's mask be doing in the music room?" Emma asked rhetorically, thinking out loud."

"Have you checked his bedroom yet?"

She slipped the mask into the pocket of her gown, "Not yet, that is my last stop. What about Mademoiselle Danielle?"

Lacie simply shrugged.

Emma then told Lacie to keep the breakfast warm and she would make sure that Monsieur Erik was alright. He had to be in his room, but as such a late hour, she feared he was ill and immediately ran to Erik's door, knocking loudly. "Monsieur Erik! Are you in there?"

So loudly that both Erik and Danielle jumped in the bed.

"Emma…" Danielle whispered in Erik's ear. He nodded.

"What should we do?"

Erik grimaced, rather irritated that his attempt at lovemaking was thwarted. He knew Emma would not leave, her tone of her voice telling him she was concerned.

"Yes?" he said, his voice low.

"Monsieur, I am sorry to bother you. I apologize for being so behind schedule this morning, we came in so late last night, your coffee waits you in the dining room." She started quickly as she opened the door, expecting him to be sitting by his window reading a book as he typically did at that time of the morning after his breakfast, "And Monsieur…have you seen Mademoiselle Danielle, I went to her room and…."

What she did not expect was to see Erik and Danielle in bed. Together.

"Oh my!" she cried out. Rushing back out the door, she closed it shut behind her.

Erik and Danielle both burst out laughing.

"Emma!" she called out, "Please wait!"

No response came but they both knew Emma had not walked away just yet.

"I had best go get her." Danielle said as she quickly jumped out of bed, looking around for something to put on in a pinch. "Umm…."

Erik pointed to his wardrobe as he rose from the bed, "Not that I wish for you to cover up, but I have a robe in there." His voice was still hoarse and passion filled. He knew he'd need a few moments to gather himself.

With a wink, she ran to the wardrobe and pulled out the robe, throwing it around her shoulders. She turned back to Erik, "I shall just be a moment, then you shall have the pleasure of removing it again."

With a smirk from Erik, Danielle darted out the door and found Emma a few feet away, leaning against a wall, her face flush red.

"Please come inside." Danielle prompted her as she approached, tying the robe around her.

"No, I am intruding, forgive me, I should not have burst in like that. It is just that I…well, I was concerned when I could not find either of you…" she babbled then stopped.

Danielle understood. "It is alright, we should have been more diligent, we did not know exactly what time it was, and we did not care to…." Then she blushed and began to giggle.

Only then did Emma join her.

Danielle opened the door and peeked inside to find Erik walking across the room dressed in pants and an unbuttoned white shirt. She turned back to Emma and said, "You can come in now." She tried to pull her hand, but she wouldn't budge.

"No, I do not need….."

"Emma, come in." Erik's voice came from behind the door.

Slowly, Danielle opened the door and the two of them went back inside the bedroom. When Emma saw Erik relatively dressed, she relaxed with a sigh. His face did not appear to show any irritation at her breech of etiquette.

"Mademoiselle..." She smiled at Danielle, then turned to Erik, trying to maintain her composure, but inside, she was extremely happy to know that the two of them had decided to be together. "Umm…your coffee is waiting…and, uh, I found this in the music room." She pulled out the mask and laid it on the bench by the bed.

"Oh, I thought you brought that up with our clothing." Danielle said in a rather matter of fact tone.

Leaning forward, Erik picked up the mask and held it. "It must have slipped out when I gathered up our clothing…." He gestured to the chair by the window where their clothes were piled up in a wad. Emma just shook her head with a slight smirk as she walked over and grabbed them in her arms.

"No bother, Monsieur, I shall wash these…"

"Thank you." He nodded, replacing his mask. Danielle pouted slightly, having truly grown accustomed to seeing him without it.

"So, would the two of you prefer to have breakfast down there, or up here?"

"Up here." Both Erik and Danielle answered in unison before bursting into another bit of nervous laughter.

Laughing, Emma closed the door behind her as she left.

_That is what I thought…._

* * *

Later that day….

"Erik?" Danielle spoke softly as she looked over at him sitting in the chair by the window of her room. Already dressed for the opera grand opening, he sat pensively, his legs crossed, arms folded over his chest and eyes fixed on her while Emma laced up her corset and Lacie made last minute adjustments to her hair, affixing it with a bejewelled hairclip. Her new dark blue ball gown lay out softly on the bed, the setting sun shining amber on the shimmering material.

She was running late. Later than she'd expected after spending most of the day riding with Lacie around the huge estate. Erik had given her permission to ride his favorite black stallion, something he had never done before, but, as he observed her on the veranda, he was glad he'd done it, for she looked so beautiful upon it that he simply couldn't think of anything else. He doubted he would ever ride that horse again, at least not without her behind him. He highly suspected that even the horse would accept no other rider but her.

Time had passed so fast and joyful, she'd hardly realized she'd been so tardy, not until she observed Erik fully dressed by the time she'd finished her bath. Sans his jacket, he had stood in the doorway of her room, smiling, without so much of an impatient word.

Even Emma was stunned at that.

"Ummm?" Erik murmured ever so softly as he observed her standing there in a corset and shift. He couldn't turn his eyes away.

"Sing for me."

His forehead curled down. "What?"

"Sing for me." She repeated. "I have heard you play the piano so brilliantly, surely you must sing."

Emma cringed behind Danielle and Lacie threw her a glance. The whole year that she had been there, Emma had never heard Erik sing, but she knew he could. No one ever dared ask him to.

"What makes you so sure I sing, love?" he asked, his voice still pleasant, but tipped with apprehension.

"I know of your opera, you know, from gossip that comes into the shop." She replied rather plainly. "I heard talk that you sang it the night you burned down the opera house….Don Juan….something…"

A long pause as she tried to remember.

"……Triumphant." He reluctantly finished.

"Yes, that is it." She smiled at him.

"That music burned in the fire."

Giving a small frown, she replied, "Surely you still remember it, parts of it?"

"No, I don't recall it."

She studied him, his eyes suddenly distant. It was apparent that the particular opera meant more to him that he was ready to reveal and he was not going to budge on the issue.

"Then, sing me something else?"

"Like what?"

"Anything…."

He looked at her again with a slight pause as he tried to figure out why she was so insistent, then asked a second time, "Like what?"

"Anything you sang for her!" She blurted out, then just as quickly turned away, wincing inwardly. She knew it was not a smart move. Again, her jealous side had taken over.

_Why does he not understand? _

But Erik understood perfectly.

"Emma…Lacie, leave us."

"But, Monsieur, I have to help dress…." Emma started.

"I will help Danielle dress. Leave us." He slowly stood, his voice firm and final.

With a glance to Danielle, Emma and Lacie quickly left the room.

"I am sorry if I said something to upset you…" Danielle began but Erik just raised his hand.

"Why do you wish for me to sing something I sang for Christine?" He knew the answer, but wanted her to say it.

She shrugged. How could she possibly explain her reasons to Erik, when she hardly understood them herself?

"I….perhaps you would not understand….it is just that…well, I wish to know what put her under your spell… how you expressed your love for her…I mean, it is a part of you that you have not shared with me and…" she shook her head, aware of her rambling, "…no…I am sorry, I have no right to ask what you clearly do not wish to give…."

_Night time sharpens…heightens each sensation…._

Danielle gasped as, very slowly, Erik moved behind her, his voice seemingly coming from all directions. He spoke no words of reply or explanation, simply started lacing her corset as he let his voice surround her…

_Darkness stirs…and wakes imagination…_

_Silently the senses, abandon their defences…_

Her eyes closed and she began to sway. It was truly the most magical, seductive voice she had ever heard. _Oh my…._

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor…._

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…_

He continued to lace the corset as he gently brushed along her back with his fingers. She sucked in a soft breath through clenched teeth as her head fell slightly back, her body tingling with newfound sensations.

_Turn your face away, from the garish light of day…_

Her hands gripped at the sides of her shift, bunching it and twisting with her fists, her breathing becoming shallow…drifting slowly into a state of pure bliss…

_Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light…._

Her body aching, her bosom swelling, the very familiar heat rising from the pit of her stomach….my God, he was bringing her to climax with just his voice!

_And listen to the music of the night…._

"Stop." She said firmly, her eyes flying open. The loud moan that left her throat shocked her enough to come to her senses during the brief lull of his music. And her body cursed her for it.

"Why, Danielle?" his voice purred in her ear. "You said you wished to hear me sing."

"I did not realize the power of your voice, I…" Her eyes fluttered shut again. "I daresay that if you sing another note, I will burst out every lace of my corset."

Erik smirked, knowing full well he had gone easy on her. She knew it, too, deep down.

"Well, we cannot have that, can we?" He stayed behind her, his fingers lazily tracing along the edge of the corset, barely gliding along the skin.

Her body shivered at his touch as she tried to speak, "I cannot understand why she did not succumb to you that very night. Your expression of love was so intense, so alluring…"

"As I said before, love, she was a child. She had not yet truly been awakened to the wonderful sensations that love brings, that lovemaking brings. She was dazzled by the Vicomte because they were childhood sweethearts. He was comfortable, familiar."

"And you were dangerous." Her lips formed a half smile. _Boy, how true is that?_

He laughed deeply, "I do not know about that."

"But your voice is so moving, so deep, it can be nothing but…dangerous…" she whispered. "Perhaps, someday…"

"Someday, what?"

"You will sing something that is just for me?"

He pulled her to him, his hands running down her arms and wrapping around her waist, his lips brushing against the ringlets of her neatly pulled up hair.

"I do not have to sing for you to know how I truly feel."

She smiled softly, "No, you do not."

For the next few agonizing seconds, no other words came, just the sound of their labored breathing…

Feeling he had to be the stronger one, Erik broke away, just long enough to lace the top of her corset before placing a soft kiss on the skin between her shoulder blades. He knew if he remained, he would take her again, and they were already running late. _After the grand opening_….his mind assured him…_nothing will stop us then_…

"There you are…" he sighed and backed away.

She took in a cleansing breath as she moved to the bed and picked up her gown, holding it out to view it again, as if for the first time. She loved it from the instant she saw it in Madame Boudreaut's shop. It was not the dress she had initially chosen for her either, a milky blue number that resembled one an old maid might wear. Oh no….Danielle was tired of plain and hated old maid. She immediately turned up her nose and went looking around the shop. When she spotted a midnight blue silk gown, low bodice, off the shoulders with tons of lace and ribbons flowing off the large bow in the back, she knew it was hers. Madame Boudreaut had said that the gown was on reserve for Jasmine Marchand and with a raised eyebrow, Danielle asked if it was for the grand opening. When Madame Boudreaut said no, she turned to Erik. With a smirk, he shoved a large wad of francs into the older woman's chubby fingers and told her to wrap up the gown. The look on the woman's face was priceless. It was the most vulgar display of wealth she had ever shown, but it was worth it, if only to show up Jasmine Marchand. Besides, she figured the woman would never be the wiser, she'd barely seen her face that day at the shop.

"Who was the first man you ever loved?" Erik's voice brought her out of her haze as he took the gown from her hands. He held it out for her to step into.

"I suppose that would be Richard." She answered, her hands touching his as he pulled the gown up her body. "There were other young boys when I was younger, but they did not mean what Richard did."

"What was it about him that dazzled you?"

"Oh, I suppose because he was like me, so impulsive, spontaneous, fearless. He cared nothing for the social morals of Paris society. He rejected all authority, even his own father, who I dearly loved. I saw him several times, always careful to avoid his mother, who I knew did not approve of me. Richard did not care. It was great in some ways, not so great in others…." Her voice faded away.

Truly, she did not wish to think of Richard. "What about you? Was Christine your first love?"

He smoothed the gown around her soft curves, "No. Actually I believe the first woman I ever loved was my mother." He replied wistfully. "Unfortunately, like Christine, she did not return my love."

Danielle recalled his telling her a few brief stories about his mother, Madeleine Renault, as they talked the night before between bouts of lovemaking. While she was very pleased at how much he'd chosen to open up to her, she was just as appalled and completely taken off guard by how much his mother had rejected him. She thought to herself how she would have died if her own mother had not loved her, it was bad enough her father seemed to hate her so, although she still could not understand why.

"I am sorry….a child should never know what is like not to be loved by their mother."

"No. Never." His voice went eerily distant.

"Is she still living?" she asked.

"No. She died years ago, before I settled here in Paris."

"Did you get to…you know…speak to her before…."

He shook his head, not ready to confront all those feelings, not just yet.

"Oh, I see…"

He inhaled deeply, then changed the subject, "Tell me about your mother. What was she like?"

"I was told we looked almost like twins, although I believe she was much more beautiful than I." She mused softly as she walked over to her dressing table and looked in the mirror as she put on a lovely sapphire necklace. "She was warm and kind, soft spoken….nothing like me…well…like me then. She loved poetry and she loved to sing and play the piano….she had an amazing talent for both, especially singing. She told me she took lessons as a child, but when I asked why she did not keep them up, she would never answer."

"Umm…" Erik sat down on the bench in front of the bed. "Where was she from?"

"Actually, I do not know. Its funny, when I first came here and Emma was giving me lessons, I said my grandmother had known all the social graces…" she sighed, "I was just pretending. I do not know my grandparents, if they are alive or dead, not even their names. Mother never told me much of her life before she met my father. Just pieces and parts of course. I know she had no siblings. She avoided the subject of any other family members. Later, Father told me it was because it was too painful for her. See, she ran off and married Father against her parents' wishes and they disowned her."

"Why?"

"I do not know, perhaps they did not approve of Father, but he never said. But she seemed happy with her life, despite that. That is until a few weeks before she died. She suddenly was very sad, almost despondent. I would ask her what was wrong, but she would only say she was a bit melancholy and not to be concerned. Then she passed away."

"Ruptured appendix…a painful way to die…"

"Yes. I was in Versailles with Michelle at the time. She had just gotten married and…well…a message was sent for me to return home immediately. By the time I arrived, Father said Mother had died.

"I am very sorry…how very unfortunate that you never found out why she was so sad."

She turned back to him and inhaled deeply. "I know. But…it is in the past and I know that Mother would be quite displeased with me if depressing talk of her spoiled this evening." Giving a smile and inhaling deeply, she asked, "So…how do I look?" as she spun around for him.

"Radiant." He stood up and took her hand. "Truly, Mademoiselle, you are the belle of the ball."

"Madame. Remember?" she giggled softly as he kissed her fingers.

"Yes of course. Although it shall become much easier to remember once we are truly married."

Danielle turned for the door, then did a sudden double take. Did she just hear what she thought she'd heard?

She turned back sharply, "Married?"

He smirked, but remained silent.

Putting her hands on her hips, she met this gaze, "Is that what you call a proposal?"

He shrugged, "Perhaps."

She laughed, then grabbed his hand, pulling him out the door, "Well, Monsieur, you shall have to do much better than that…"

He nodded and pulled her close as they walked down the staircase.

_Do not worry, love…I shall do better…much better…._

* * *

The Opera Garnier was lit up so bright in the night that it almost made the moonless sky glow. Danielle saw it as she approached Haussman Boulevard and she gawked at its splendor, hearing music rise, even from that distance away. Many other carriages came their way, the same reactions from the passengers, pointing, staring and even applauding.

"If the outside is this amazing, I cannot wait to see the inside!" she exclaimed, turning to Erik, who looked at his opera house proudly.

"I find that, even though I am here almost everyday, I am also looking forward to this evening." He replied, his tone quiet, but nonetheless enthusiastic.

Wrapping her cape around her shoulders against the cold night air, she smiled at Erik, noting the sincerity in his eyes. She leaned forward and touched his hand. "You should be proud, Erik. Although the name may be Garnier, the victory is also yours."

He pulled her forward and kissed her lips affectionately as the carriage pulled to a stop. "The true victory is having you here to share it with me. There may never be a way to tell you how much I appreciate it."

With a sigh, she replied, "I think you just did."

* * *

Meanwhile, inside, the grand foyer of the opera house was decorated elaborately; sprays of flowers and ribbons draped the long staircases and hung over the balconies. The gold statues were gleaming, the marble floors polished to perfection, but Richard Dupré couldn't care less as he walked around the upper floors, keeping a close watch on the door for any sign of The Renault's appearance.

"Monsieur Dupré…" Mancia appeared behind him. He leaned down over the balcony railing, looking like a vulture upon the beautiful women walking around below him.

Richard turned, "Monsieur."

"Everything set?"

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes." Mancia said, slipping a key into Richard's hand. "Here is the key to my office, you can take Madame Renault there after she comes upstairs.

"How will you lure her upstairs without her husband?" Richard asked him.

"I have paid one of the servants to tell Madame Renault that a messenger is waiting for her upstairs, news about her cousin. That same servant will tell Monsieur Renault that Monsieur Daque has requested his presence. That way, they will have to split up."

"When will this take place?"

"About two hours from now, just after Firmin makes his God awful speech about how wonderful it is that everyone has come and….blah blah…" he waved his hand.

Richard nodded, "Excellent, Firmin loves the sound of his own voice. You should leave now, before anyone else arrives and spots you here."

Mancia clicked his thick tongue. "Yes, I know….a shame though...mighty fine ladies just waiting for a suave man like myself…"

And with that, Mancia slipped out the side exit door and disappeared, leaving Richard to laugh…and wonder if he was indeed serious.

* * *

Even after two hours and probably the most boring speech she had ever heard, Danielle was still having the time of her life. She had yet to let go of Erik's arm as he had slipped her out during the party, showing her around.

"Erik…I noticed that both the Vicomte and Vicomtess are not here tonight." She said to him as they headed back into the grand foyer from the main theatre after taking her on a tour.

"Yes." He said with a shrug. "I heard talk of the Vicomtess being under the weather."

"I venture she is not ill." Danielle could not help but smirk, completely amused. Yet, at the same time, she was a bit disappointed that the Vicomtess had not shown. She would have taken great pleasure in confronting her for what she did to Erik.

"Perhaps not."

"I believe she will pull out of the production altogether, rather than remain around you, after you rejected her so."

Erik knew it and pulled her close. "Let us not worry about Christine, tonight or any other night. It is just us, and it is a perfect evening…"

"You are right, I apologize." She put her arms around him as he wrapped her in his strong, warm embrace. She nuzzled his neck. "Oh yes, such a perfect evening…"

Richard, meanwhile, watched in amazement as he hid in the shadows, just at the top of the center staircase, observing Danielle walk around the grand lobby, her arm on Erik's, playing the perfect wife. Now, they were openly showing affection. The very sight sickened him. He could think of nothing else except how to get Danielle alone just long enough to confront her.

_Anytime now_…he shifted nervously. _Once she tells me what I want to know, to hell with what happens to her after that_…

He paced.

Where was that damn servant anyway?

And waited.

"Excuse me, Madame Renault?" A young man tapped on her shoulder. Both Erik and Danielle turned around.

"Yes?"

The young man bowed politely, "There is a courrier upstairs with a message for you from Versailles."

Her eyes widened as she looked up at Erik, then at the servant. "Is it my cousin, Michelle?"

"I do not know, Madame."

Erik leaned in to her, "How does she know you are here?"

"I sent her a message telling her I was with you. I suppose the courrier was sent here by Emma."

He nodded, "Then let us retrieve the message. If there is anything wrong, we can leave for Versailles immediately."

"But the grand opening…" she started but he shook his head.

"No, she is more important." He started for the staircase holding her arm, but the servant stopped him.

"My apologies, Monsieur, but Monsieur Daque is asking for you. He is waiting by the south entrance."

"He can wait." Erik grumbled.

"He said it was most important." The servant said firmly, which earned him a glare from Erik's eyes.

"I said…" he said again.

"No, go Erik, I can take the message by myself." Danielle interrupted.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

He kissed her cheek and said, "Wait for me at the top of the stairs, I shall find you when I am finished.

She nodded, then turned to start up the stairs, the servant following, to the delight of Richard, who was now patiently waiting for her behind one of the large columns by the staircase.

"Is the messenger waiting in one of the offices?" Danielle asked the servant.

No reply.

"I said, is the messenger…." She turned to find, to her shock, he had disappeared.

"Umm….where did he…?" She shrugged but continued on.

She had just stepped up from the last step onto the balcony area when a voice behind her suddenly said, "Good evening."

She froze. It was Richard, she knew it. What was he doing here?

"Lovely celebration so far, would you not agree, _Madame_ Renault?" he had almost spit out the word and it made Danielle's spine tingle with unexpected apprehension.

Slowly, she turned around and addressed him, "Monsieur Dupré, I was unaware you and your wife would be attending tonight." Her voice was calm and cool, but inside, she was shaking. His eyes. His eyes told her he was not in a celebrating mood.

She was right.

"My wife has returned to our home." He said flatly.

"Oh?"

"But, please, if you may, Madame, my visit is strictly business….I would like to speak to you alone in one of the offices, it is a very important matter."

Widening her eyes, she scanned for any signs of the messenger. "I am afraid I do not have time, I have a message waiting for me and…"

"Oh, I assure you, there is no message." He told her sharply and marveled as her eyes grew big as saucers. "A fine ruse, do you not agree?"

Erik left Monsieur Daque rather quickly after finding out that he had not wished to speak with him, after all. Something smelled funny. He could not pinpoint what, but he knew he had to find Danielle, just to make sure. Once she was by his side again, he could breath easier.

"You lured me here? Why?" Danielle asked Richard, keeping her distance.

"To speak to you alone of course, without the prying eyes of your husband. Now, if you do not mind…" he gestured toward the offices down the hall, but Danielle did not move an inch. She was definitely not going anywhere with Richard.

"Alone? Surely, Monsieur Dupré, you know that would be a mistake, my husband would not approve….

"…at this point, I do not care what your husband would approve of…Danielle."

"Please, do not address me by that name, you were proven the other day that I am not….."

He came closer to her, "Nothing was proven either way. Not until recently, that is."

"What do you mean?"

He grinned, a satisfied glint in his eye, "What I mean is, I spoke with your father. That pathetic old man told me everything and, surprisingly, with very little prompting on my part. Amazing what a few paltry francs will get from someone…" he laughed.

"What could he have possibly told you?" her hands began to shake as she finally spotted Erik down below, talking to one of the investors, seemingly confused and shrugging his shoulders. She was desperate to get his attention.

"For one, that up until a couple of days ago, you were living under his roof. Even Jasmine Marchand can attest to that, as she heard you being referred to as Danielle and you addressing him as Father a little over a week ago."

Danielle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth before she could think. That gesture alone was her ultimate downfall.

Nodding, Richard's voice dropped. "I thought so. Now, let us go somewhere private." He grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off.

"I will not go anywhere with you, whatever it is you wish to say, say it here, now."

Another dark laugh came as he stepped even closer, "As you wish…"

"Are you going to tell anyone?" she gestured around to the crowd.

"I could care less about them or your sham of a marriage, I only want one thing from you, Danielle…."

"What could you possibly want from me after so many years, Richard?"

"Where is my son?"

Erik by this time had now spotted Danielle and Richard at the top of the stairs, engaged, by the sight of their closeness and anxious gesturing, in a heated conversation and was politely making his way toward them. He could tell how uncomfortable she was and he'd be damned if he'd let her suffer another second. However, the more determined he tried to get through the eager crowd, the more the eager crowd seemed to flock around. He felt as if he was treading in quick sand as he looked up to find Richard's hand on her arm. She was struggling to free herself.

"What?" Danielle's eyes flew open, darting around to see Erik heading her way. She wanted out of there and fast.

Richard gripped her arm again and this time she let out a yelp of pain, which made Erik fly up the stairs even faster, pushing past people and taking the steps two by two.

"Where is my son, Danielle? Be fast about it before I get angry." Richard's voice rose.

She shook her head, confused. "I do not know what you mean, Richard!"

"You do! Do not deny it!" he growled, but Erik reached them and grabbed at Richard's arm, twisting it angrily.

"Erik!" she cried.

"I do not believe you were invited, Dupré, to this celebration or to take liberties with my wife!" Erik growled loudly, more loudly than he should have.

People started to notice.

And gather.

"I would take careful consideration of your words, Renault…." Richard responded. "I only want some information from her. When she gives it to me, I shall leave."

"Richard…." Danielle started softly, "Let us go into the office…" she gestured toward the crowd as she began to feel embarrassed.

But Richard had other plans now, much better than the one he had concocted earlier. "Why, Danielle, how lovely you blush…" He almost yelled. "Are you now afraid of letting everyone here know you are indeed a _fraud_?"

The crowd gasped at his loud words and even the music stopped.

"I am no fraud!" she exclaimed, her eyes darting around her frantically.

Erik grabbed Richard around the collar, his eyes turning dark, "How dare you accuse her of such nonsense…"

But Richard would not be deterred. "Then perhaps instead you would prefer to explain how there is no record of your marriage in Boscherville? Or how her real name is not Daniella Marie Perrault, but in fact Danielle Andrée Durand, the daughter of the dress maker Jean-Pierre Durand!" He pulled out a paper from his hand, holding it up and shaking it wildly in both of their faces. "Here it is, the proof from the church itself!"

Erik let go of Richard's shirt and looked around, knowing Richard spoke the truth. He glanced at Danielle, who at the moment wished she could sink into a hole.

"I see the happy couple is rather shocked! Well, perhaps you cannot offer an explanation because what I am saying is true! I know her very well in fact!" he screamed to the crowd, "Because I used to be her lover!"

The crowd gasped loudly, then the all too familiar murmurs of gossip could be heard rising up.

"Richard, no!" Danielle screamed.

"Yes, I was her lover eight years ago, a love affair that ended with the birth of my child!"

Even more gasps and chattering whispers…

But Richard was now on a roll, "A son! Where is he, Danielle? Did you send him to be adopted as your father said you did? Or is he indeed living with you and your new, so-called husband?"

"No!" she screamed, "Do not do this! There is no child!"

"Stop this, Dupré!" Erik growled again.

"Was he stillborn? Tell me!"

"No, I have never been pregnant!" her voice called out in panic.

"Liar! Why would your father tell me there was a baby if there was not one?"

"I do not know! Believe me now Richard, I have never been pregnant!" she cried out again, but feeling it was futile. Why would her own father say such things?

Erik would hear no more. He let out a loud angry cry and grabbed Richard by the throat, laying his back onto the balcony railing, threatening to push him over. The crowd screamed and several men ran up the stairs after Erik. They grabbed him quickly, pulling him off Richard and holding his arms.

"Let him go, please!" Danielle pleaded.

"Typical of the _Phantom_….solve things by murder!" Richard choked out as he gathered his breath, then he turned to Danielle who had turned pale, tears falling down her cheeks, almost transfixed at the sight of Erik's rage.

"Stop lying and tell me where my child is!" Richard screamed at her, breaking her out of her haze.

In desperation, fear and utter shame, she lunged at Richard, slapping him hard across his cheek before running down the hall to the upper floor exit.

"Danielle!" Erik screamed, struggling hard to free himself and go after her, but the arms of the men held him tight. "Let me go, you bloody fools!"

"Monsieur….let her go." A voice said. He turned to see it was Richard Firmin and he was not amused by the turn of events. "You have some explaining to do."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, it appears my delays in updating are getting worse. I'll try to do better. I so appreciate the reviews, glad to know someone out there is reading the story. I'm still two chapters ahead, I can see the end coming soon...;)**


	21. Chapter 21

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One:

_Why does my heart cry?_

_Feelings I can't fight….

* * *

_

"What do I owe you, Monsieur?" Danielle asked the driver as she got out of the small carriage in front of Erik's home. She could hear the bell tower clock strike ten o'clock.

Danielle had not even bothered going to Jacques when she ran out of the opera house over an hour before. She had seen him there, in his usual place, his face buried in a newspaper, huddled against the cold night air, but she just couldn't face him, or anyone associated with Erik right now. Just too many questions, too many answers she couldn't give.

_Erik_…

The very sight of him looking at her, his shock, his confusion had shown through the angry, murderous stare. God, did he actually believe Richard? The very idea was too much for her to handle. But if there was one thing she could be sure of was that she just wanted as far away from the opera house as possible. She wanted to bury her head under the warm covers of her bed and pretend the night had never happened. Grabbing her skirt tail, she had run as fast as could down the cold streets of Paris, unsure how far she would have to go to find a carriage….

…yet after nearly twenty minutes of shivering against the bitter wind and debating on whether or not to just go back to Jacques after all, she'd finally stumbled upon a carriage parked on the side of de Monceau.

"Where to?" he'd asked her as he helped her into the carriage. She noticed him looking her over, probably wondering why an unescorted woman was out that time of night, without so much as a cape over her bare arms.

"Le Vezinet." She answered him, her voice shaking just as much as her body.

He appeared to have taken enough pity on her to offer her a wool blanket he had folded up next to his seat. With a faint smile, she had taken it gratefully. It did not take long for her to stop shivering. But as the cold left her body, it had been rapidly replaced by tears….tears she did nothing to stop.

"Ten francs." The driver said politely, his eyes scanning over the large estate with raised eyebrows.

"I shall return in a moment with it." She replied as she turned toward the front door.

She still could not understand any of it. Why would Richard believe, seemingly spurred on by her father's lies, that she had become pregnant eight years ago? And why was he just now confronting her about it? Her mind flashed rapidly from one image to another. The looks on the faces of the crowd, their whispers rising louder and louder with each passing second, Erik's rage, his eyes darkening, the men holding him back…

_Oh, how did it come to all this….? _

It all suddenly became clear. There was no way she could stay at Erik's any longer. He had suffered enough shame for one lifetime without her adding to it. Yet, she could no longer go back to her father, no telling what atrocious punishment would await her there. She had no other alternative; there was only one place to go, Michelle's. At least a couple of days, until she could move on. Yes, Michelle would need help with the new baby while her husband was working…

She stopped and turned back to the driver.

"On the other hand, Monsieur, how much would you ask for taking me to Versailles?"

He inhaled and thought hard. "Not an easy ride…."

"I will pay you fifty francs." She blurted out.

His eyes widened. "Of course."

"Good, wait here, I shall not be long."

He nodded and she ran into the house.

* * *

Erik paced around the large conference room like a caged animal as the investors sat at the table, including Richard Dupré. Jules was pleading his case. 

"Gentlemen, this is no time to be debating this issue. There is a celebration going on outside and Monsieur Erik wishes to go after his wife to see if she is alright." He said as he spoke over the loud music that had resumed a few minutes earlier after Monsieur André assured the crowd that there was nothing to worry about.

"I demand answers!" Richard pounded on the table with his fists.

"We all demand answers, Monsieur Dupré." Monsieur Daque spoke up before standing and addressing Erik. "We must know if these accusations are true. Did you, in fact fake marriage documents that said that this woman was your wife, when she is indeed not?"

Erik growled. He was not going to answer anything any of them had to say. He simply paced, his mind focused solely on Danielle, hoping that she ran to Jacques and he took her home. Together, they could sort everything out later, but for now, he just wanted her safe.

"We are not going anywhere until you answer us, Monsieur." Another investor spoke up.

"Monsieur Renault does not have to answer…" Jules spoke up.

"Then just tell me where my child is!" Richard interrupted loudly. "That is the real issue here. Who cares if he's married or not married to her? She had a child and he is my son and I want to know where he is!"

"I can assure you, Monsieur Dupré, this is the first I have heard of a child." Erik replied very calmly.

Richard could only huff and sit down.

"And for all of you here, no, my marriage to Danielle is not legal. I had the documents forged. Of course, that will all change as I plan to legitimately marry her. She is not shamed in any way and we have done nothing wrong. This sham had nothing to do with the opera house."

The men looked at one another and shrugged.

"When do you plan to marry the young woman?" Monsieur André asked.

"Within the next few days. I will simply find a church outside Paris who will marry us in secret."

"Will that appease you all, gentlemen?" Jules asked the hurried and weary men.

Firmin spoke up, "Yes, I believe, for the sake of the opera house, that in two days time, if you can marry her and bring us a legitimate certificate of that marriage, we can let this issue drop and we can appease anyone who wishes to know if they are truly married."

"Excellent." Monsieur Daque said with relief. "I believe this meeting is adjourned."

The other men nodded in agreement and all began to stand. Erik exhaled as he took Jules by the arm and was almost out the door when Richard spoke up.

"Wait!" he stood quickly. "Just like that, he gets away with it? No! I want him out! If you do not vote him out, I shall take this to the Époque! Danielle will be shamed right out of Paris and so will the opera house for covering up the scandal!"

"Monsieur, think about this…" One of the other investors pleaded with him.

"I have thought about it. Let him marry her, I do not care, but the fact that she had a child, my child, out of wedlock, will prevent her from being received by any decent household in Paris. Soon, the public will know what I have known for eight years, that Danielle Durand is nothing but a putrid gutter rat!"

"Damn you!" Erik screamed as he ran for Richard, leaping wildly onto the table to get at him, ready to strangle the very life out of him. "You will not be able to spread such filth if you are dead!" Richard cowered in the corner as four men finally managed to pull Erik away.

"You cannot be serious!" Jules screamed at Richard.

"Watch me!"

"Nothing can be accomplished tonight, not now." Monsieur Daque spoke up again. "Let us agree to meet here again in two days. We will decide then if Monsieur Renault is to be removed. Will you agree to wait two days, Monsieur Dupré?"

Reluctantly, Richard nodded, his eyes fixed on Erik's.

Monsieur Daque touched Erik's shoulder to help calm him down. "Take the two days, gather any information you can about this so-called child. Perhaps, if you can give him the information he wants, he'll leave you and the opera house alone. Then you will be free to marry the young lady at your leisure and no one will have a say in the matter."

Erik nodded, then looked at Jules as the other men released him. He casually straightened his shirt and jacket, "That is acceptable."

"We will return here in two days." Jules said as he carefully escorted Erik from the room.

* * *

It did not take long for Danielle to rid herself of the ball gown and change into one of her plain ones for the journey to Versailles. Just as quickly and quietly as she had left before, she packed up everything that was hers, including the remainder of the money that Erik had paid her, and left the room. She chose not to look back, because she knew if she did this time, she might change her mind. She walked downstairs and immediately stared at the closed mahogany doors of the music room. 

No, she could not leave it like this, no this time. She had to leave him something, a goodbye. She walked inside and lit the single candle on top of the piano. She could find nothing but a fountain pen and some old sheet music paper, but it would do. She stared at the blank page, trying to find the words she needed to express herself, to tell him how she truly felt. But what? How could she sum up just how much it hurt that she had somehow caused him shame and embarrassment, especially during his moment of greatest contentment? How sorry she was that now he could lose everything over a scandal that involved her past?

"Oh, Erik…how I love you…" she whispered softly, her fingers brushing along the ivory keys of his piano.

Only one thing came to mind then…and she began to write…..

* * *

Erik and Jules ran outside the front of the opera house, heading for Jules' carriage when they saw Jacques parked in the same place he'd been all night. With a glance to Jules, Erik ran over to him. 

Hearing loud footsteps, Jacques looked down and saw Erik and Jules approaching rapidly, their face drawn and anxious. He dropped the paper he was reading and jumped off the top of the carriage. "Monsieur!"

Erik grabbed the young man by the shoulders, asking breathlessly, "Where is Danielle?"

His eyes widened, "I have not seen her since the two of you went inside, she is not with you?"

"No! She ran out, I thought she would come to you to take her home!" Erik cried, his eyes darting around, futilely searching. "Bloody hell, where could she be?"

"Let us check at home first, Monsieur." Jules said.

"Yes, we will go home in your carriage, Jules. Jacques, you start fanning out from here. I do not believe she could go far in this cold. Check cafes and hotels…"

"Yes, Monsieur!" Jacques jumped back onto the carriage just as Erik and Jules ran for the other one.

* * *

It was close to eleven o'clock by the time Jules and Erik jumped out of the carriage and ran for the house. Erik threw the door open. "Danielle!" he cried, running straight upstairs to her room. 

_Please be here…please…._

He didn't knock, he didn't have to. The door stood wide open and he ran inside, only to find her belongings gone, the ball gown discarded neglectfully on the bed.

Again.

"No!" he screamed loudly as he ran from the room and down the hallway. Fruitlessly, but still with a last gleam of hope, he still searched every room, but she was definitely not there.

By this time, Emma had run out from the kitchen after hearing the commotion. She saw Erik and called out to him, "Monsieur! What has happened?" she noted his missing jacket, sweat soaked shirt and overall disheveled appearance.

"Emma!" He ran down the stairs to her and held her hands. "Tell me you saw Danielle tonight!"

"No, of course not, why? Is she not with you?"

"She has left, again!" He told her, then emitted a sound that, to Emma, reminded her of a wolf's cry. He dejectedly stalked along the foyer toward the library as Emma walked over to Jules, who by that time, had stopped at the open front door.

"Oh God, what happened Monsieur?"

He could only sigh, "Richard Dupré revealed the whole marriage ruse to everyone at the grand opening."

Her gasp almost choked her. "How did he…?"

"We do not know, but unfortunately, that is not the worst. Dupré also accused her of having his child, a boy, out of wedlock eight years ago and he had demanded to know of his whereabouts."

"What?" Emma could hardly believe it.

"Yes, I know."

"Is it true?"

He shrugged, "Danielle denied it."

"A child." She shook her head. "Does Monsieur Erik believe her?"

"Yes, I believe he does, but unfortunately, she ran out and disappeared before they could talk about it. Then the investors called a meeting and he could not go after her, he was hoping she was here."

It was on the way to the library that Erik, through his tears, spotted the open music room door and the candle lit at his piano. He knew he had not left it that way.

"Emma!" he cried out for her and she ran to him as fast as she could, if only to try and comfort him.

"Monsieur." She grabbed his arm.

"Has anyone been in here tonight?" he gestured to the music room.

"No, Monsieur, it was closed when I left for my room earlier."

With a nod, he went inside and straight to his piano.

He paused at the candle, then saw the paper.

He read the note.

He dropped the paper to the floor, sunk unto his piano stool, buried his head in his hands and began to cry. _Danielle…my Danielle…_

The distressing sound sent both Emma and Jules running to his side.

Emma fell to her knees before him, "Monsieur….we shall find her. Please do not cry. She returned once, she shall return again." She held tight to him as he threw himself into her mothering arms. She tried to be optimistic, but inside, she was heartbroken. She cried softly with him as Jules picked up the note.

"What does it say?" she asked him, tears streaming down her face.

With a quiet toned voice, Jules read:

_Why does my heart cry?_

_Feelings I can't fight_

_You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me_

_And please, believe me when I say…_

_I love you… _

_Please do not look for me, I cannot return. It is better this way._

_Yours, Danielle_

With a shake of her head, Emma asked, "What does that first part mean?"

Jules could only shake his head as well, confused as she was.

Erik looked up at them both. He understood the meaning through the enigmatic words. As much as it was killing her, Danielle had left on his behalf to save him from scandal, all because she loved him.

Nothing could compare to the love his heart held for her now. "She did it for me." He told them both, his voice shaking before looking away, his eyes lost.

* * *

For nearly an hour the three of them sat in the music room, the candle slowly burning down, wax pooling along the edges of the holder. Erik's crying had ceased long ago, but his heart was heavy. He was now playing the piano as Emma and Jules sat on the couch, mesmerized by the sad melody that seemed to pour continually through his fingers. 

"Monsieur!" The deafening sound of Jacques' voice broke through the glum. Erik failed to notice.

"Music room!" Jules called out when he made no immediate move to answer him.

Jacques ran inside and stopped, shocked to see Erik's tearstained face, but gathered himself. "Monsieur, I have information!"

With that, Erik's eyes seemed to find new life. He jumped up off the piano stool. "Tell me, quickly!"

"I was riding down the streets, no one who had seen Mademoiselle Danielle, when I finally saw a carriage pull in by Devoir's on Astorg. A man got down. He was holding a handful of francs, counting it. It appeared he had been rather busy that evening, so I ran over to him and asked if he had picked up a woman in his carriage earlier, a woman wearing a dark blue ball gown. He told me that he had indeed picked up a young woman on Monceau not that long ago with that very type of gown."

"Where did he take her?" Erik asked impatiently.

"He said he took her to a home in Le Vezinet, and then she requested to be taken on to Versailles!"

Emma gasped, "Her cousin's home!"

"Yes! When I asked, he described her perfectly, her eyes, her hair color - everything."

"Excellent work, Jacques. Now we know where she has gone. Did you get his name?"

"Yes, I did. His name is Monsieur Rousseau. He gave me directions to her cousin's home and I wrote them down. Here, Monsieur." He pulled out a piece of the newspaper he had been reading earlier and handed it to Erik.

Erik looked over the paper and the scribbled directions, then patted him on the shoulder before saying, "Great. You can retire to bed now."

When Jacques left, Erik again sat down at his piano, laying the paper on top of it. His eyes were pensive, his fingers gliding over the keys with far less emotion than before. Both Emma and Jules waited, knowing he was simply gathering his thoughts.

"Jules." He finally whispered.

"Yes, Monsieur." he rose and went to his side.

"Tomorrow, go to Jean-Pierre Durand's shop. Take as many men as you like and tear the place apart, piece by piece. I want to know everything about that man, and Danielle. I want anything concrete that can prove she was not pregnant eight years ago. Find the family physician, also…."

"Yes of course." He nodded.

"Let me ask you…" Erik rubbed his chin and turned his gaze up to him. "Who do you believe set up Danielle for Dupré to destroy like that?"

With a smirk, knowing full well Erik knew the answer, Jules replied, "If I was a betting man, I would say…the only man who was not in that board meeting tonight, the only investor who was invited to the grand opening and did not attend."

"The very man who was in my home yesterday." Erik growled, "Eduardo Mancia."

"Yes, Monsieur." Jules said, "But, why?"

"Revenge will drive a man to do many things….Mancia can be a vindictive man."

"But help someone go after Danielle; surely Monsieur Mancia knew what Richard would do to her…" Emma added from her position on the couch.

"Yes." He turned to her. "But, Mancia could not go after me and risk losing his promised percentages. He wanted me out, he has for quite some time, but he wanted to keep his hands clean."

"And he allows Dupré to do the dirty work, while he sits in the shadows and watches." Jules said.

"Yes. A very logical approach, actually. Yet, again, he underestimated me." With a snort of contempt, he said slowly, "I will visit him tomorrow. He will talk or I shall leave there with his very heart as my trophy."

Emma gasped, but kept her mouth covered with her hand.

"Will you send Jacques for Mademoiselle Danielle?" Jules asked him.

He sighed deeply, "No. She is safe now at her cousin's home. She has had a stressful few days, let her stay there and rest while we clear her name, then I will go for her. Jacques will be needed elsewhere, first of all with me tomorrow when I speak to Monsieur Mancia. He is not the only one who can sit back and let someone else do their dirty work."

* * *

Mancia jiggled the handle to his office door at the opera house early the next morning and found it unlocked. He entered and found a very cheerful Richard Dupré sitting in the chair by his desk, calmly reading the morning paper. 

"Monsieur." Mancia said, walking to the desk and looking down at him.

"Good morning." Richard replied with a smirk as he folded and laid the paper down on Mancia's desk.

He studied the obviously happy man as she sat down, "I hope I did not keep you waiting long."

"On the contrary, I had unlocked your door only a few minutes earlier, I knew you would wish to be here early. I will not keep you as I was simply returning your key."

"I hope you made good use of it." Mancia said jokingly as his beady eyes glanced around the office, "I see nothing broken or out of place, I was sure of the opposite. I assessed Madame Renault to be quite the little hellcat when she gets going, perhaps I was mistaken."

Richard turned his head with a laugh, showing Mancia the very obvious red streaks on his cheek left by Danielle's angry blow. "No, you are quite correct in your assessment. In that notion, she has not changed."

"Umm, I see. So you did make good use of my office…"

"No, actually, I did not need it. Change of plans really. She refused to go with me in here, so instead I confronted her in front of everyone in the grand foyer."

"Really?"

"Yes. It worked to my advantage, actually better than I had imagined. It brought out Erik Renault's dangerous side for all to see, plus it succeeded in humiliating Danielle, which I enjoyed tremendously. She slapped my face and ran out."

"And what happens now?"

Richard pulled out a handful of francs and slid them across Mancia's desk. "Here is what I owe you for your generosity. All that remains now is waiting until tomorrow. You see, after what happened, all the investors met in the board room…"

"What? Why was I not summoned?"

Richard waved his hand placidly, "My apologies but everything happened so fast. Anyway, I demanded Renault be removed, but of course I was outvoted, at least for now, especially by Monsieur Daque, you know the man is afraid of his own shadow. So they set a meeting for tomorrow and if they don't get rid of him then, I am going to the Époque."

"Did you find out about your child?"

"No, I did not. I heard Monsieur Daque tell Renault that it would be in his best interest for him to find out about the child. Perhaps he will do my leg work for me or, if anything, get Danielle to speak."

Richard then stood and walked slowly towards the door as Mancia laughed deeply, placing the money into his pocket.

"You will, of course, vote out Renault tomorrow…" Richard said as he opened the door. He tossed the office door key to Mancia. It landed on his desk with a loud clank. "The meeting is set for five o'clock in the conference room."

With a gleam in his eyes, Mancia said confidently, "Do not worry, we have an understanding."

When Richard left…a satisfied smirk on his face, Mancia shook his head, placing the key in his pocket and pulling some papers out of his desk to read through before his secretary arrived.

He was unaware of the sinister eyes that glared at him from the shadows….

It was not long before a strong, but mysterious gust of wind blew through the small enclosed office, sending Mancia's papers flying out in all directions.

"What the hell?" he said out loud as he rose from his desk running to the window to shut it, wondering what in the world would possess Dupré to open it in the first place on such a cold morning.

But it was shut...and locked.

He froze in stunned silence as his eyes scanned the small room, neither hearing nor seeing nothing out of place. With a groan, he bent down in an effort to pick up his scattered papers.

But he never got the chance.

Jacques ran out, seemingly out of thin air, and grabbed Mancia by the throat. He shoved the large man down onto the desk, flat on his back as he cried out for help in vain, but went silent when Jacques forced his head over the edge of the desk, pushing down hard. Mancia could feel his spine straining under the stress of the young man's strength.

"Dear God, what are you doing, you pathetic fool?" he squeaked out, but Jacques merely gave a menacing stare.

"I would be careful of your words, Mancia…" Erik said. His voice seemed to float around the room, low and dangerously vicious as he came to stand at Mancia's desk. He looked down at him with cold, black eyes.

"Renault….if this is over your maid, I…."

"This does not involve Lacie and you know it."

"Where did you come from?" Mancia struggled against Jacques, which only succeeded in making him maintain a tighter grip.

"Shut up until Monsieur Renault addresses you directly!" the young man snapped.

"I would listen to him…" Erik's mouth curled in a sneer, "If he presses downward one more inch, your spine will snap like sapling wood."

Mancia panted, but kept silent.

Erik began to walk around the desk, keeping his gaze locked onto the man's fat face, "Very good. Now, you will answer my questions, correct? Respond by saying yes."

"Yes." He answered meekly, his eyes wide.

"See, Jacques, he is learning. Let up on him, just a little."

Jacques released his grip just enough to relieve some of the pressure and Mancia relaxed slightly.

"Tell me, Mancia. How long were you aware of the plans Richard Dupré had for running me out of the opera house and shaming my wife?" He asked, still using the word _wife_. He refused to use anything else.

"I do not know what you mean..." Mancia panted.

"Apparently I was premature in my earlier assessment…" Erik smirked and with a wave of his hand, Jacques pushed him down again, harder than before.

Mancia let out a pitiful, anguished cry. "Please no!"

"Perhaps you would like to consider your answer…"

"I…I am sorry…I…" he struggled.

"Tell me how long you have known…" His voice echoed off the thin walls.

"Two days. I swear, he told me only two days ago. I went to you, tried to warn you…" his voice squeaked, "Oww, my back!"

Erik paced around the room slowly again as he thought about it, ignoring Mancia's pained cry. "So, you came to warn me. And what made you decide not to tell me?"

"I was…attacked. By him." He glared up at Jacques.

"Oh, I see…" Erik's voice dripped of sadistic sarcasm, "because Jacques here attacked you – justifiably - you decide to allow my wife to be thrown to the wolves…."

Jacques growled angrily, pushing hard against Mancia's throat.

"For God's sake, please Monsieur!" Mancia cried out in even more pain as the blood rushed to his head, throbbing.

"You put your hands on my employee, the lady that this man intends to marry. He should have killed you." Erik said, his voice even and low. He refused to let his anger get the best of him again.

"I only wished to offer the young lady a job – honestly - and she panicked. When she ran, she caught her skirt and it tore…"

"Liar!" Jacques screamed in his face. "I saw the handprints on her thighs you bastard!" Then he turned to Erik, "Let me kill him now, Monsieur….please!"

Erik put a hand on Jacques' shoulder. "In due time. Right now I need answers."

"You are going to kill me?" his eyes darted nervously between both Erik and Jacques.

But Erik just laughed. It was a heinous, anger-filled laugh that made even Jacques' spine tingle.

"Please! I shall tell you everything I know, spare me!" Mancia cried weakly.

Erik turned his attention back to him, "Very well. If you tell me everything, I shall spare your useless, pitiful life. Now, why does Dupré want me out?"

Mancia coughed slightly, "He wishes to gain majority control. He underestimated just how much the opera house would bring in, profit wise. He asked me to show him the numbers, and I did. And…he decided then he wanted to take over, he said with you out, he could get…your shares before they are divided up amongst the other shareholders…he plans to move back to Paris…"

"Umm, smart move, trying to eliminate the competition. Yet, I am not concerned about my shares, they are safe and under contract. They cannot be stripped from me, not by the board, not by anyone. An underestimate on your part. No, my concern is Danielle. What exactly does he want with her?"

"Only to find out about the child…"

"What do you know of this child?"

"Nothing I swear…." He panicked. "All I know is that a few years ago Monsieur Durand told him she had become pregnant and he was so embarrassed that he refused to marry her, opting to marry another woman. He said he regretted not finding the child over the years. Then he recognized Danielle at the party. He went to Monsieur Durand who lied, saying the child had died, apparently it was not true."

"And you do not know whether this child was put up for adoption."

"No, I do not know…."

"And the marriage?"

"He sent a courrier to Boscherville, only seeking to initially prove that Danielle was lying about her name, to prove her true identity. He did not know there would be no record of the marriage. But he used it to his advantage…."

Erik began to pace around, which made Mancia even more nervous. "Now, I want to know what part you had in last night's events."

"I….gave Dupré a key to this office, so he could bring Madame in here…" Mancia struggled to keep a breath under the enormous pressure, "he had planned on blackmailing her for information about the child, telling her if she cooperated, the whole scandal involving your marriage would be swept under the rug. But he said he had never planned on keeping the promise…"

Erik waved his hand again and this time, Jacques pulled Mancia up from the desk, throwing him into the chair by his window. The man landed with a hard thud and immediately held his throat as he choked in a few breaths of fresh air.

"How did you get in here? Dupré and I had the only keys…" he asked.

"Bloody hell," Erik smirked, "I built this opera house, Mancia, I can get into any room I wish, with or without a key.

"What now, Monsieur?" Jacques asked, keeping his eyes glued on Mancia. The young man rubbed his hands together, ready….

A long pause as Erik circled the chair, closely studying his nemesis. The man had been forthright, but only under duress. Every inch of the man sickened him, from his balding head, to his nasty crumb filled beard to his God awful shoes that squeaked when he walked. Although he would love nothing more than to rid the earth of his presence, his true blood lust called for Richard Dupré. Yet, his own sense of justice demanded something and he knew exactly what had to be done.

"I have no more use of him." He replied in a tone so menacing that it appeared to make the room turn cold. He then looked at his driver, "He is yours. Do with him as you please."

Mancia's eyes widened as slow satisfaction appeared on Jacques face, "But, I told you all I know, I swear it! You told me you would spare my life!"

"Yes…" Erik hissed softly as he approached him, looking down into his frightened eyes. "But I am a liar. I am the Phantom, Monsieur. The devil himself is no better a deceiver and the world would play the great fool to believe anything I say from now on."

And with that, Erik turned with a flourish, his black cape momentarily blinding, and he suddenly disappeared seemingly into the wall, leaving only Jacques behind, glaring at Mancia…

…with a smirk, and a knife….

* * *

**A/N: Ok, too long between updates...that is going to change. I'm going to start posting them much sooner now, promise. The reviews are coming in fast and I really appreciate them! Please do not stop reviewing, everyone's comments are taken to heart, I assure you. For those who were asking...there are at least four more chapters so far. More to look forward to. ;) Thanks!**


	22. Chapter 22

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Twenty-two:

Jules had been pacing around Erik's library for a good forty-five minutes by the time he saw the carriage pull up. It was well after lunch and he was anxious to know how the meeting with Monsieur Mancia had gone. In his hands, he clutched a small book and his finger tapped on it nervously.

"Do not worry, Monsieur Bernard, he shall be in shortly." Emma said as she stood in the doorway of the library, on her way to the front door.

"Yes, I know." He sighed, pointing out the window, "Is he better today?"

Shaking her head, Emma replied, "I am afraid he has not spoken but very few words to me…his mood is grim, his eyes are dark. He is not mean to us, but very short tempered and aloof, almost as aloof as he was when we first came to work for him…we are all worried, Monsieur…please take care."

"I understand."

Erik exited the carriage and threw a glance to Jacques, who was pulling his jacket around his blood splattered shirt to hide it from view until he could rid himself of it. The men exchanged looks, but nothing else. Erik chose not to question exactly what happened to Monsieur Mancia….at least not yet…and it appeared that Jacques was in no mood for idle chit chat.

Jules stood by Erik's desk and waited as he heard Emma inform him that he was there waiting. He heard Erik make no immediate reply, but within a second, he was there at the door and Jules shuddered at the sight of his employer.

He was dressed in black, from head to toe, including the long cape and thick hood that was wrapped around, covering the mask…almost.

"Monsieur…." Jules began as Erik slowly removed the hood. The white mask…so obviously stark against the black was unmistakable and stood out by contrast. He truly looked like Death, or…well, the Phantom.

Unsure what to say and suddenly very nervous, he continued when Erik made not move to speak. "I hope to find you in better spirits?"

"I shall not be in better spirits until Danielle is by my side and my enemies disposed of…one way or another." Erik answered sharply as he continued into the library and made his way to the desk, the cape sliding from his shoulders. He deposited the garment and hood onto the chaise, then sat down, folding his arms across his chest.

"How did the meeting go with Monsieur Mancia?" Jules asked when he felt it appropriate to speak again.

He gestured for Jules to sit down, which he did. "Not terribly productive. He knows very little that we did not already suspect. His part was rather simple, giving Dupré a key to his office so he could use it to take Danielle there. He had intended on blackmailing her for information on the child, promising my safety, but was not going to keep the promise."

"The poor girl, being blackmailed for information she did not have."

"Yes, I know." Erik's face turned even more morose, if that was possible. He laid awake the entire night thinking of how she must have felt. Her eyes as she looked upon him, the fear, the confusion and humiliation. His blind rage, which in retrospect only had made matters worse, drove him to see nothing at that moment but throwing Dupré over the railing to his death, smiling with pure satisfaction. Yet, on the other hand, he did not know if he could have lived with himself if Danielle had witnessed him taking Dupré's life and he was grateful…if one so angry could be grateful…that the men had held him back.

"What will become of Mancia then?"

Erik's eyes snapped back to Jules, "I left that up to Jacques. I will wait until an appropriate time to ask the important questions…" He paused, then reached inside his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to Jules. "But I did get this…"

He took it and read silently, then gasped out loud, "Dear God! This is a letter of resignation and a preemptive contract from Monsieur Mancia, saying he resigns his position at the opera house and turns over all of his shares and portfolio to you!"

"Yes, and ready for witness signatures. I trust you can forge the necessary notary seal and find two witnesses willing to sign a blind document, so it holds up to the board." He told him coolly.

Jules sat uncomfortably for a second, his mind only barely conceiving what Jacques might have done to the man to make him sign such a document. "Of course, that can be done." With a sigh, he continued, "It was growing later in the day, I was concerned when you did not arrive sooner."

His eyes narrowed at Jules'. "Are you now my timekeeper Jules? I cannot come and go as I please?"

"Of course not, my apologies…." He started but was interrupted.

"If you must know…..I went to visit Madame Piret and her family afterwards to pay them for the inconvenience of her losing her position. She has found another job, but part time. I will compensate the salary loss until she can find something better. Perhaps you can ask around the opera house for a position for her with the costumes department, or possibly something in the other departments for her husband, he is a skilled mason and a strong man, very good with his hands I was told."

"Yes, Monsieur, I shall work on that within the next few days."

"Good. Now….what happened at the dress shop?"

"Oh!" He had almost forgotten. "I took five men with me just nine o'clock. Madame Trudeau was there in the shop, but I informed her that she should leave and not return. I paid her for the hassle of not having worked the full seven days. Durand was still asleep, Madame Trudeau telling me that he had not hardly stepped foot in the shop since she had been there. I instructed the men to began in the backroom, but I told them not to destroy anything there, especially the gowns, only to search… plus they could not tear apart Mademoiselle Danielle's bedroom upstairs, I knew you did not wish to have anything of hers destroyed.

"And did you find anything?"

"Trash. The man was a hoarder and packrat. His ledger books are atrocious, simply unfathomable. I looked them over and the figures did not make sense. It's very apparent by some of the entries that he had been stealing from the business for years, paying for a mistress he sees in the city. Plus, purchasing lots of liquor. I also found…gambling notes everywhere…

Erik groaned, "Do you have these books?" It made sense now why there seemed to be no money to pay off the debts, yet she was always working hard on gown after gown.

"Yes, I kept them, over there." He pointed across the room to a valise by the couch.

Erik nodded, "Anything on Danielle?"

"Unfortunately, no, Monsieur. Nothing to prove that Danielle was not pregnant eight years ago."

His heart sank at the news. He had held out a faint glimmer of hope that something might be there.

"And Durand…did he speak?"

"Sadly, the man was extremely hung over. We found several bottles of brandy and cheap whisky in his room. My men worked him over, trying to get anything from him about his lies, but he was in and out of consciousness, spouting nonsense and giving us nothing."

He groaned louder, "So that was pointless…what about the family physician?"

"I have his information, I shall leave it for you on the desk. But, I was told he is out of Paris until sometime tomorrow."

Erik pounded his fist on the desk. "Dead ends, nothing but dead ends!"

"Not exactly, Monsieur." From under his arm, he pulled out the small book. He sat it on the desk and slid it to Erik.

Erik furrowed his brow and examined the book closely. Its brown leather bound cover was worn and dusty gray, the edges of the pages yellowed, smelling of dampness. "What is this?"

"Open to the first page and read."

He did just that. "Diary of…" he paused to read the faded writing, "…Geneviève Andrée Leroy Durand."

His eyes widened and he looked up at Jules. "Danielle's mother?"

"Yes."

"Where was this found?"

"Upon tearing up Durand's bedroom. There was a niche inside a locked wardrobe that was filled with many gowns and clothing I assumed belonged to Madame Durand. It appeared to have been untouched for many years."

"Does Durand know you have this?"

"No, he went almost hysterical when he found out we had gotten into the wardrobe in the first place. I do not know if he knew that the journal was there beforehand or not, he passed out after that."

Erik ran his hand over it slowly. "I am sure Danielle does not know about this."

"I would venture not."

He read the name again… Geneviève Andrée Leroy Durand…

"Leroy…" Erik let it roll off his tongue. "Surely not the Leroy Family of Rouen."

"I believe it could be the very same, Monsieur."

"Danielle never spoke of…but…doubtful she never knew. She told me that when her mother married her father, that she was disowned."

"Conceivable, considering their wealth and social status, their daughter running off and marrying a man like Durand would be quite scandalous."

He scratched his chin and thought hard. "Jules…"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Start out for Rouen now, you should reach there by late evening. Find the Leroy's and discover what they know. Then return here as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Monsieur, but what about the family doctor?"

"I shall question him myself tomorrow. Right now, I am going to read over this journal. I know it will not unlock the mystery of this child, but perhaps it will help me to understand more about Danielle."

* * *

As the carriage pulled up to the front of the Leroy's home late that evening, the driver simply sat and shook his head at the anxious man fumbling for a few francs in his pocket.

The Leroy home, just outside Rouen was not humble by any means, yet it seemed to take Jules no time to reach the open gate of the large estate and enter with no resistance. Little beyond rumor was known of the Leroy's except for their vast wealth, patronage of the arts and charities and their travels abroad…other than the pair were rather recluse otherwise.

"It is a waste of time, Monsieur. The Leroy's allow no one into their home." The driver said.

"I must try, it is very important that I speak with them." He replied.

"Just the same, I shall wait for you here, you will not be long."

With a glance, Jules went up to the door and knocked, seeing the light of gas lamps through the uncovered side windows. Quarter past seven o'clock. It was apparent no one had retired for the evening as he checked his pocketwatch.

When no immediate reply came from inside, he knocked again, this time a bit harder.

"I tell you, they might not even open the door." The driver commented once more from his position upon the carriage.

Jules sniffed in another breath of courage and kept his fingers crossed. Within a minute, the door opened just slightly to show a much older woman in a fine maid's uniform.

"Yes?" she said meekly.

"Is this the Leroy home?"

She nodded, "Yes. Are you expected, Monsieur?"

"No, actually I am not," he replied with a slight bow, removing his hat, "I am Jules Bernard, I have come from Paris and…"

"No one sees Monsieur or Madame Leroy without an invitation." The maid said loudly and with more authority.

"Please, it is of the utmost importance that I speak with them."

"I am afraid that is not possible…" she began to shut the door, but Jules caught it with his foot.

"Please, I must at least speak to one of them. I can wait, simply tell them I am here."

"No!" the maid cried out, kicking Jules' foot out of the way. The door slammed shut tight.

"Madame, I beg you!" he pounded on the door.

He could hear the maid close by replying loudly, "No!"

"It is about Geneviève!" he called out in last resort and immediately a silence fell behind the closed door.

Finally, the maid's voice again, "You have come about Mademoiselle Geneviève?"

"Yes, Madame."

Rapid footsteps echoed through the foyer area of the home, footsteps that dissipated, but within a few seconds, reappeared and stopped at the door. It flew wide open.

"Come inside." The maid said with haste.

_I knew it…_

* * *

After remaining in the foyer for what seemed an eternity after the maid had disappeared a second time, Jules was finally summoned to a small sitting room just off the main foyer by an older man. He followed him through the open door and watched as the man shut the door behind him.

Inside there sat a woman, her face appeared to still be youthful in comparison to her thin, frail body, but her hair, pinned up neatly away from her face, was so gray it was almost white. She sat in a chair by the small fireplace with her hands folded in her lap, but Jules could see some knitting close by that did not look neglected. She smiled pleasantly but did not speak.

"Good evening, Monsieur." The older man spoke behind him in a hoarse, deep voice and Jules turned face him. His hair was less gray than the woman's, his face also youthful in appearance, sans a few deep lines around his mouth and eyes, which seemed less visible when he smiled. "I am Armand Leroy, welcome to our home."

Jules eyes brightened as he offered his hand to the gentleman, "Thank you, I am Jules Bernard."

"A pleasure. And this is my wife, Sophia." Armand gestured to the woman in the chair and Jules smiled, walking to her and offering his hand.

"Madame." He bowed.

"Monsieur Bernard, welcome." She took his hand and he kissed it respectfully. "Please, sit down." She gestured to the small, but elegant couch along the window.

"Thank you." Jules removed his coat and saw the maid come in from another entrance. She took his coat and hat, and gave him a pleasant grin.

"This is our maid, Amelie." Sophia said.

Jules nodded to her and she gave a slight bow in return.

Armand sat down next to Jules, "I understand from Amelie that you have come from Paris regarding a very important matter."

"Yes, I have."

"That is a long journey," Sophia said, "You must be almost frozen, would you like Amelie to make you some hot tea?"

"No, but thank you anyway." His tone remained serious and Armand threw a quick look to Amelie. She quietly left the room.

"Well, perhaps you should tell us the nature of your visit then. I understand it has to do with Geneviève?"

Jules smiled. "Yes, your daughter I understand."

Both Sophia and Armand exchanged glances and Jules held his breath.

"Yes, our daughter…our only child." Armand finally answered. "What did you wish to know about her? Are you a friend of Jean-Pierre's?"

"Yes, so to speak, I understand you disowned her years ago when she married Monsieur Durand?"

A long pause fell and again, the couple glanced at one another, but this time, their faces were wracked with confusion. Jules was unsure as to why.

"Monsieur, how did you come to such a conclusion?" Armand asked.

"From Monsieur Durand, of course."

The couple gasped.

"That is not true, not true at all!" Sophia burst out suddenly but Armand shushed her. "No darling…we must not lose ourselves, there must be an explanation…."

Jules studied the couple before asking, "Then I am to assume then that you in fact _did not_ disown your daughter?"

"No, never. We wrote, we tried to find her after they ran off together….we told her it was alright, that we would help her….but all we got in return was that she had died."

"Yes, ruptured appendix…I know."

"What? No, you must be mistaken, Monsieur, Geneviève died giving birth." Sophia said.

Jules scowled. _Died in childbirth?_ "How long ago?"

Armand replied, "Twenty-nine years ago."

It was Jules' turn to gasp and go silent now. They thought their daughter was dead for twenty-nine years, giving birth to a child…a child that must be Danielle.

"Monsieur, are you alright?" Armand leaned closer.

Jules looked his way and said sternly, "Perhaps you should tell me the whole story."

"Geneviève was barely twenty-one when she became pregnant by Jean-Pierre Durand." Armand started, "We knew little about him other than he was a craftsman and much older, nearly nine years her senior. Of course we were appalled and upset that the pregnancy had happened, but they were engaged at the time and we thought that the best thing for them to do was marry quickly and perhaps pass off the child as being premature. Suddenly, the next day, she left, leaving a note saying she was sorry she had shamed us. Naturally, we looked all over for her, only to be sent a message a week later that said she had married Jean-Pierre and settled in Paris."

"And the child?"

Sophia spoke up then, "We desperately wanted to keep in contact, so we could see the child after it was born. We sent letter after letter to the address left with his original correspondence, but we never received anything in reply. Finally, one day, about eight months after she had left, Jean-Pierre came to us. He looked devastated. That was when he said that Geneviève had died in childbirth just a few days prior. I asked about services, but he said he had already buried her. He gave us a box of her few remaining trinkets….a couple of her gowns, some jewelry, nothing much else. Then he left and we never heard from him again."

"He never said the child lived or died?"

"I asked. He said the child was stillborn, that the doctor had told him that the child had died long before in the womb, a birth defect of some sort." Armand said as Sophia turned away, staring blankly at wall, her mind miles away.

Jules could only sit and shake his head slowly, then inhaled, knowing what he had to tell them would be a shock.

"There is no other way to tell you both this to soften the impact….but your daughter did not die twenty-nine years ago."

"What?" Sophia turned back sharply.

"She is not dead? If that is so, then where is she?" Armand asked.

"I am sorry, but Geneviève is indeed deceased now, mind you, but she died eight years ago of a ruptured appendix…not in childbirth. To my understanding, she was actually under the impression that the two of you had disowned her."

Tears formed in Sophia's soft brown eyes as Armand asked, "Jean-Pierre…he lied. Why?"

That reason I do not know, but I do know this…you have a grandchild, alive."

Sophia's hand flew to her mouth. "The child lived?"

"Yes, a girl. Her name is Danielle Andrée."

"Oh my…" Sophia exhaled softly.

"Danielle…does she…does she know about us?" Asked Armand.

"No, she was told the same lies as your daughter, she does not know anything of your existence."

"How do you know all of this? Are you a friend of Danielle's?"

"Well…let us just say that I am quite fond of her, yes."

"Husband?" Armand said.

"No, I have a wife and children of my own. See, my employer, Erik Renault and Mademoiselle Danielle…they plan to marry…and he wished for her to know her heritage and background, we did some digging around and found her mother's maiden name. We put two and two together and I came here, hoping…."

"A granddaughter Armand…" Sophia almost whispered and he went to her, falling to his knees, holding her hands.

"It is almost too much to have dreamed…" he whispered, then he turned to Jules. "May we meet her?"

"Of course you may meet her!" he laughed, "She is your granddaughter and she will be so happy to see both of you. If you wish, I can bring you back with me to Paris first thing in the morning. Monsieur Renault would welcome you as guests in his home. I am sure that once you arrive, he can answer all your questions."

There was no argument as Armand called out, "Amelie! Prepare a room for Monsieur Bernard for the evening, and start packing our bags!"

* * *

**A/N: Yes, short and sweet, but there is one more chapter added today, so don't despair!**


	23. Chapter 23

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three:

The house was a dark as it should be for such a late hour as Emma left her room, located on the first floor of the servants' house, and walked through the small alcove that connected it to the side door of Erik's home.

She was hungry, and nothing would do but a slice of Gisèle's fresh home baked bread. In fact, she was so looking forward to it, she did not even bother to put on her dressing gown for bed, opting to read until she knew Gisèle would be out of the kitchen for the night and would not try to run her out.

She entered the house quietly and headed for the kitchen, yet as she passed by the library, she could see a glimmer of candlelight shining underneath the closed doors.

With narrowed eyes, she turned the knob, hoping that Lacie didn't forget to extinguish the candles earlier. When the door opened, she peeked inside to find Erik sitting in one of the large chairs by the window, a single four candle candelabra lit on the table nearby. He was pensive, brows furrowed as he stared down reading something in his lap as he held a brandy snifter in one hand. He was so engrossed that it appeared he didn't even notice she had come inside.

"Monsieur, it is late, you should be resting." She spoke to him softly, afraid of perhaps angering him. But he did need to rest.

His head rose slowly and he turned to her. What a kind soul she was. He felt guilty for his distancing himself from her….from everyone….over the past day. They took his snappish and detached behavior without question and they truly didn't deserve it.

"I should say the same for you, you are up later than usual." He replied.

"I was on my way, after having a bit of bread and milk. I am more concerned with you. I saw the candles lit and…"

"Do not concern yourself with me, Emma…I shall rest soon enough." His took great pains to make his voice far less rigid. He truly appreciated that she cared for him. He ventured a mother would do no less, if he had one of course. She came frighteningly close.

She sensed his calmer nature and took it upon herself to come further into the room, "I do concern myself with your welfare, Monsieur…" and approach his chair, "…your eyes are bloodshot…you have not shaved…I know you have not slept or eaten. Mademoiselle is safe with her cousin, and when you go for her, she will return, in that you must believe and therefore, take care of yourself in the meantime. I am sure she would not want this for you."

"Yes, I know she would not." He sighed, "Most insane, is it not Emma? To be so…obsessed with thoughts of a woman whom I have known two weeks? A woman, when I first met her, I thought to be horribly boring and plain? How could I have possibly….?"

"That is the best kind of love, Monsieur, one that catches you off guard." She smiled.

He gestured for her to sit in the chair directly across from him and she did. "You know much of love?" he asked her.

"I have loved, yes, and you…you have courted many women, Monsieur."

"No. Not courted. Mistresses, you do not court. There sole purpose is to fulfill sexual needs, not love. No, I know nothing of love."

Sighing, she replied, "That is truly sad."

"Have you loved so deeply and without reservation?"

"Yes. My late husband and I were very adoring and entirely in love, of course it did not start out that way..."

"What happened?" he prompted, but could see the distance growing in her eyes. He surmised it must be difficult to speak of her husband since his passing, "My apologies, it is not my business."

"On the contrary, Monsieur…" she gazed at him thoughtfully, "we have never spoken of my past, have we?"

"No, we have not." He replied, then waited as he took a sip of brandy.

"Francois was the best friend of my brother, Cyril. We had known each other practically all of our lives…and we never got along. He was only a year older than I, but to him, that meant he could boss me around as much as my brother did. He would make me so angry…" she laughed, "…that is until he moved away when we were teenagers. When he returned five years later, we were mature and entering adult hood. We saw each other differently then. I suppose I always knew we loved one another, but still, as I say, it took us off guard. There was just no other man that made me feel so many emotions as Francois did…and when he died five years ago….well…"

"What did it feel like?"

"What did _what_ feel like, Monsieur?"

"To be in love?"

"Oh, it feels like no other emotion that exists. My heart would ache when he was gone even for a short time, but it would sing when he was near. My body would tremble when he did something as simple as hold my hand, my cheeks flushed when he touched my face. For him, I gave him my soul, for me, he gave me the world…and a beautiful child."

Erik looked wistfully out the window.

"Did you feel this way about the Vicomtess, Monsieur?"

"No, that was not love, it was fascination. She became my whole world because we shared a common loneliness. Her without her father…wishing for one, me without…well…anyone at all. I mistook that neediness for love. I realized that now, being out in the world where I have found kinship among other people…" he looked at her with deep respect and affection, "…where I have found…friends. How can what I had with Christine be love if I was the only one who felt it?"

With a smile, she said, "You feel that way about Mademoiselle Danielle."

"Yes, heaven help me. I never thought I would feel anything for any woman after Christine broke my heart, much less even hope a woman would look upon me….I mean, I found physical gratification with the women I chose to associate with…none of them saw what was under here…" he gestured to his mask, "…but true love…the love you just described to me…no, I was sure I would die without knowing that."

"But she loves you too."

"Do you truly believe she does?" he asked, his eyes fading into an innocent, child like stare that made Emma's heart break. In so many ways, he was still a young boy, searching for unconditional caring and acceptance.

She leaned across and touched his hand, "Yes, Monsieur, I believe she does, with as much passion as you love her. Why else would she leave like this? You said yourself she left on your behalf."

"Yes, she did." He said softly, then after a small pause, his anger returned. "Damn it all to hell! That bloody Richard Dupré!" he pounded his fists on the arm rests of his chair. "He was going to blackmail her for information on that non-existent child. Promise her my safety, that I would be free from scandal. Scandal! I do not care about scandal; my whole life has been nothing but shame and humiliation! But she would not have wanted that for me…she cared enough…" slowly his voice died off into a deep sigh.

"But once you prove she was never pregnant, he will go away, will he not?"

"He still wants me out. Jules said he wishes to move his family back to Paris and take over the opera house."

"Can he do that?"

With a smirk, Erik assured her, "No, believe me, he could never have acquired my shares, no matter how much he had blackmailed, schemed or lied his way in, using Danielle or not. They cannot be turned over with my signature and seal."

"I see." She said, then noticed the book in his lap. It was definitely new as she did not recognize it. "May I ask what you are reading? You appeared to be enthralled with it when I came in."

"Ah!" he held it up for her to examine closely. "It is Danielle's mother's journal."

"Really?" She leaned forward to get a better look at it.

His eyes turned sad, "Yes. I have been reading it for sometime now. Very illuminating. Danielle will be hurt by what is in these pages."

"Like what?"

With a deep breath, he said, "For one…Geneviève Durand did not die of a ruptured appendix…she committed suicide."

Emma gasped loudly, "What? But Danielle said…."

"Yes, I know. Danielle is unaware of it. When she spoke of her mother to me, she said that she had been rather despondent a few weeks or so before her death. I suspected something was wrong then. For a woman to be so sad, then just die suddenly of a physical ailment? No, you know I am not one to believe in mere coincidence. But now, reading this, it explains the suicide."

"What drove the poor woman to do it?"

"This journal only spans the last year of her life. Where the others are I do not know, so when she speaks of the past, I have no real reference. But it appears to me that very shortly after their marriage, she gave birth to Danielle. Or maybe…"

"She was already pregnant when they married…?" Emma said.

"Yes."

"But make her take her own life so many years later?"

"No." Erik let out a breath, trying to put his thoughts together, "It appears that one night, in a drunken stupor and ensuing fight that Jean-Pierre told Geneviève that he was the sole reason that she had no contact with her parents."

"How did he do that?" Emma's eyes widened.

He opened his mouth to answer, but instead began flipping through the pages until he found a passage. He held it out for Emma to take and pointed. "Read this…out loud if you please, about two paragraphs into the entry…."

She took the journal and cleared her throat…

_I do not know how I could have been so blind to believe him all these years. Maman and Papa…for so long I believed that they were ashamed of me, only to find out that Jean-Pierre told them nothing but lies! I was in bed a mere two days after giving birth to my beloved Danielle when he returned from their home to tell me that they had disowned me…that they did not want anything to do with me or our new daughter! Yet all the while, he had gone to them and told them both Danielle and I had died in childbirth! Why would he do such a thing? How could he deny me the forgiveness of my own parents? How could he deny his own daughter the joy of knowing her grandparents?_

_What love I had for this man had left me years ago, but now, I hold nothing but contempt. I feel nothing for him, and I swear to heavens above, that if it was not for the fact that Danielle adored her father so, I would…if I were stronger…_

_Oh, Maman and Papa, forgive me please! Forgive me for running away and marrying this man! I do not know if you are alive or dead, yet I know that you believed me to be dead….and perhaps….dead is what I should be…_

Emma stopped reading and looked up at Erik. "Dear God, the poor woman…"

"I know."

"A selfish act, not even thinking of her daughter when she decided to end her life." She scowled slightly. "It is such a waste."

"Yes, a selfish act, but she did think of Danielle, right up to the end. One of her last entries is addressed to Danielle. When she returns here, I shall make sure she reads it. She speaks of a note she left for her, but Danielle never mentioned anything about a note."

"Perhaps Jean-Pierre got to it first, did Mademoiselle not say that she was in Versailles at the time?"

"Yes. And it is why she did it then, when Danielle would be away and would not be the one to find her. She did not wish for her to live with that image. Of course I am sure that Geneviève had no idea that Jean-Pierre would cover up the suicide."

"Why would he? Surely not to spare Danielle's feelings, it is apparent he cares nothing for her."

"Maybe, but Danielle said they used to get along a little until her mother died. He might have wished to make it easier for her to handle." Erik shrugged. "We may never truly know the answers to everything, considering they live inside Durand's mind."

Sitting back in her chair, Emma could only shake her head. "So by showing this to Danielle, it will answer some questions, but at the same time, open the door for even more."

"Yes. But I cannot….will not keep this from her. She must know the truth." He stood and walked over to the bookcase where he placed the journal safely in a small enclosure, locking it with a key. As the chime clock struck one o'clock, he turned back around and found that Emma had approached him.

"Come, Monsieur, it is bed for you, a busy day comes quickly." She said.

With no further argument, he offered his arm to her with a smile of gratitude and they left the library together.

* * *

In retrospect, Danielle started to feel terrible for showing up on Michelle's doorstep two nights ago.

Michelle, seven months pregnant had no more than laid her body down on her cold empty bed, missing her husband, than she heard pounding on the front door, followed by her cousin's frantic voice calling for her. When she opened the door, she found Danielle shivering, huddled inside a ratty wool blanket that belonged to the carriage driver. Tear stained face and weak spirited, she came inside and immediately began spouting her incredible story. It was shocking to say the least, but at least now she understood the meaning behind the enigmatic messages she had been receiving sparsely over the past week and a half.

Ever since then, Danielle had been, for the most part, quiet. She helped around the small home without question during the day while Michelle worked part time for Madame Souvigny. At night, they would read together or embroider, speak of family or Michelle would take to some mild gossiping that she had heard that day from Madame Souvigny, but nothing much else.

If Michelle brought up Erik in any way, Danielle simply changed the subject.

Standing at the sink doing the breakfast dishes, she glanced over at Michelle, who was sewing a missing button onto her maid's uniform and not doing very well.

"Stupid button…I hate sewing!" she grumbled.

Danielle dried her hands on the towel and went to her, "Here, let me…" she took the needle and began to sew it on for her with a smile. The lovely brunette, just a month younger than Danielle was not known for her patience by any means.

"Thank you." Michelle sighed at her. "So, how do you feel today?"

Not looking up from the button, Danielle replied, "Better."

"You truly miss him."

"I do."

"And you love him."

For a moment, her eyes lit up as she nodded, "More than anything…" then fell silent again.

"You do not have to talk about it, I know you keep avoiding the issue…."

"Thank you, I would rather not." She kept her head down, concentrating on sewing instead of what her heart truly felt.

"But…." Michelle said.

"But what?"

"I can tell there is something else…you…seemed to be a bit pensive when I said that you loved him.

She cut the thread from the newly sewn button and laid the needle and scissors down on the table, "Apparently, he does not love me."

"Why would you say that?"

"He has not come for me." She answered plainly, her voice definitive.

"He does not know where you are, you said yourself you did not tell him of your whereabouts."

"He knows me, Michelle…he knows where I would have gone."

"The man is not a mind reader."

She jumped up, "He knew my mind! He knew you lived in Versailles…some prompting, some questioning around town….."

"If you wanted him to find you, Dani, then why did you not just tell him where you were going and save the man some legwork?"

She snorted. "I did not want him to follow me!"

"Then why, pray tell, are you so upset that he did not?"

She opened her mouth again to argue, but closed it quickly. It _was_ confusing. She did want him to find her, yet she did not. She could not go back to him, not risk him losing everything he had worked so hard on for the past year. Lose the one thing, beyond money, that he always wanted…respect. No, she would not do that to him…ever.

"I suppose I cannot answer that…"

"I thought so…" Michelle's face turned down slightly, while Danielle, with a deep breath, walked back to the sink to continue the dishes.

"You know…" she began after a few minutes silence, "I believe that tomorrow, I should find another place to live."

Michelle's head popped up so fast she almost stuck herself with the needle as she was trying to put it back in her sewing basket. "Leave? Why? You have enough money to hold you for a while…"

"I cannot stay here forever. Alain will be returning within the next couple of days and I would be intruding terribly. I have money, yes, but that will not last me forever. I must find employment."

"But I love having you here…." Michelle's eyes filled with tears, "I get so lonely when Alain leaves for work, he is always gone so long…"

"Please….do not make this more difficult…"

"I am sorry." She wiped her tears and pasted a hopeful smile, "At least you could stay in Versailles? That way you would not be far away."

"Yes, I might do that…"

"And Madame Souvigny has met you before, perhaps she would give you employment in her home, at least while I am out with the baby…then afterwards, if she liked your work…"

She scowled, "I do not know, I was hoping to find employment in a dress shop…."

"Just until I can return after the baby's born? She pays a decent wage and she is a nice employer, you would like it there. I will talk to her this morning."

"Are you sure she would hire me?"

"She told me I could pick anyone to take my place while I was out. And I choose you. Please say you will do it?"

With a sigh, Danielle reluctantly agreed. At least it was something…for now.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my God! I can't believe I'm over 100 reviews now! Thanks so much everyone and keep them coming!**


	24. Chapter 24

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

(The character Étienne Bayre is courtesy of Susan Kay's book, Phantom.)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-four: 

Étienne Bayre was not by nature a superstitious man, yet when he spotted an impeccably dressed man a white mask pacing in front of his small office as he returned around mid day, he was sure it had to be an omen. A bad one.

He knew the man as if he'd seen him grow up every day his life. Erik Renault. The nine year old child of his beloved Madeleine, the only woman he'd ever truly loved.

"Erik?" He said as he approached, narrowed eyed and observant.

For a moment, the two men simply stared at one another, a long and uncomfortable silence falling.

Ever since he'd read the information that Jules left him on his desk the day before, Erik had been wondering if this was possibly the same man he'd known so many years ago, almost dreading it. He remembered him well, the man who openly courted his mother, the man who had insinuated that he be institutionalized, telling her she needed to be free.

"_I won't stand by and see you driven out of your mind for the sake of a freak accident of nature. _Erik had heard him say, even through his laudanum induced haze. _I'm very sorry for the child, but there's nothing I can do for him except put him beyond the reach of the ignorant." _

His mother sighed,_ "Étienne..."_

"_No ... listen to me, just listen! Let me make the arrangements and when it's done we'll go away from here, far away where no one knows you, to a place where you can begin to forget. I love you, Madeleine, and I know that you love me. There's no reason in the world why we should not make our life together once you are free of this monstrous burden."_

Monstrous burden…The man never understood him, his need for knowledge, his desire to experiment and learn. Étienne Bayre had seemed larger than life and frightening then. He had been the cause of his obsessive jealousy, but now appearing before him after such a long absence, he knew this _was_ the same man, but far less fearsome, almost frail bodied. Perhaps there had been nothing to fear in the first place.

"Doctor Bayre." He finally answered very politely with a slight bow of his head, "I hope to find you well."

It was if the enormous gap in years had suddenly been filled. It certainly appeared that the once angry, selfish, curiously genius child had now grown into a fine and courteous man of seemingly high social stature.

"I am as to be expected for a man of my advanced years. How are you, Monsieur?" the word _Monsieur_ barely escaped his lips in automatic response. Although he never thought he would ever address Erik in such a form, his strong presence almost demanded it and he found he did it without question. "As you have come to pay me a call, I hope that you are not ill." He said, still uneasy in his presence, even though Erik showed no outward signs of malice.

Erik studied the man closely, feeling he meant every word. There were so many things that had been left undone, unsaid. And how he hated that! But things are always so much clearer through adult eyes. Maybe someday, he could say the words….actually begin to express that now, after all these years, he finally understood just how much the man had loved his mother. "No, I am quite well, thank you."

Unlocking the door to his office, he gestured, "Then, please come inside."

"Thank you." Erik followed and waited just inside the door as Étienne threw open the window curtains to allow some light into the small sitting room. In the back lay two closed doors, one Erik surmised must be an examining room, the other he did not know.

Étienne pointed to a small chair and watched as Erik sat down before sitting down on his couch that was directly facing it. "So, what brings you here? I hope it is not to rehash old wounds after so many years." He gave a soft laugh that came out nervously, although he truly didn't wish it that way.

With his own, much deeper laugh, Erik replied, "No, perhaps not at this time…although I daresay there is much we need to say to one another after many years absence."

Étienne nodded, "Yes, I agree. Then, what can I do for you?"

"I will pull no punches, Doctor, I need information from you." His voice was firm and decisive.

"I will help you if I can, what do you need to know?"

"I understand that you are the long time physician of the Durand Family."

"Umm….Jean-Pierre, Geneviève? Yes." Étienne nodded. "I have been their physician since Danielle was a small child, just after I settled here in Paris after my return from Boscherville."

"Yes, I see. So you have extensive medical records I presume?"

"Yes, of course. But surely you know I cannot give out personal medical information, it is against medical ethics."

"I am well aware of the ethics of many professions, Doctor Bayre, yours is no more sacred than another." He spat out quickly, then inhaled calmly, "nevertheless you must understand, it is important that I have these answers."

"What do you wish to know about the Durand's, specifically?"

"Two questions only…first. Did you examine Geneviève Durand after her death?"

"I see…" Étienne grimaced, "I did not, actually. If my memory serves me correctly, I was away when she died. Another physician, who was a friend of Monsieur Durand's was called in and he ruled her death to be, I believe a ruptured appendix…?"

"That is Jean-Pierre's story, yes."

"Yes, his story." Again, Étienne's memory was becoming clearer and he gave a scowl which raised Erik's curiosity.

"But you have doubts…"

"Yes." he paused just long enough to stand and begin to leaf through several journals that lay in his desk drawer. It took him a few moments of looking through one of the thick books before he returned and began to nod in agreement. "Yes, here are my notes on the matter…this was nine years ago. The physician had ruled based on Jean-Pierre's description that Geneviève had been having severe pain in her right side for as long as a week, yet two days before her death, I had seen her at the market, she was not in pain, nor did not complain of pain when I spoke to her. In fact, she was quite pleasant and seemingly healthy." He closed his book and looked at Erik.

"You wrote it down? You must have had definite suspicions…."

"Yes, suspicions mind you, nothing concrete, just my ramblings on the incident. From what I understood, there was no marital strife, nor abuse, no money problems…so no one suspected foul play, the matter was closed." He studied Erik's reaction closely, then said, "You know something…"

"I do…" he replied, then paused.

Étienne waited.

Erik said nothing.

"Well?" he finally asked impatiently.

"I do wish to give you the information…but…."

Étienne's thin lips formed a smirk. Here it was, shades of the young slick hustler. He'd play along, for amusement sake. "But, what?"

"I want information from you first."

"Yes?" Étienne shrugged.

"My second question. I wish to know if Danielle Durand has ever been pregnant."

That alarmed Doctor Bayre… so much so that his mouth dropped. "Why, no. Not to my knowledge. Yet, I am not an obstetrician, so if she had been with child, I would not necessarily know…but I do know that I have not seen a child in the Durand household, why?"

"She has been accused of having the child of Monsieur Richard Dupré eight years ago, out of wedlock and giving the child up for adoption."

"Dupré…Oh! Madame Dupré's eldest son…" he gasped. "Oh my…well…umm…" he paused in thought. "Danielle is such a kind young lady, a scandal like this could hurt her…let me check through my records…eight years ago you say?"

"Yes."

Étienne excused himself and left the sitting room for the second small room while Erik studied his watch. Two-thirty. The board would be meeting at five o'clock. He sat pensively and fiddled with the edge of his cape as he could hear the sound of papers rustling close by. It was bad enough that he had waited on Doctor Bayre over two hours, now he had to hurry; he had to get the evidence to Dupré at the meeting, one way or the other.

When the doctor finally returned, he was holding a folder of papers in his hand, looking at them closely. "Umm…yes….eight years ago….you do not have an exact supposed birth date for this child?"

"No, I am afraid not…but I believe that it could have been around early fall, perhaps September, October…?" He said enigmatically. He recalled Danielle mentioning in the past that Richard had ended their relationship sometime around mid March. Thus doing the math, he could get an estimate.

"I have three entries listed for that year….here…the last entry is the eighth of September. Yes, I remember well….she had burned her arm on a hot iron…her forearm, it says here. I treated the wound… a relatively mild burn, prescribed some ointment and sent her home. I see no entry here for her being pregnant, and believe me, if she had been, I would have noted it. The thin girl that she was, she would have shown significantly, even as early as her fifth month."

"Are you sure?" Erik sat up straight as an arrow.

"Absolutely."

The weight that was lifted off Erik's shoulders could be felt throughout the entire room. His body suddenly slumped as his head fell back slightly, eyes clinching shut. He felt in his heart it was not true, yet still….he was ashamed that just a small part of his mind still was unsure and wanted conclusive proof.

Étienne saw the obvious relief and smirked at him, "I am to assume you have an interest in Mademoiselle Durand?"

He felt no harm in telling the doctor now, "She is to be my wife."

His eyes widened, "I see. And you wish to know be proven of her innocence and worth…"

Erik grew cold as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a scowl creeping across his face, "The woman is well worthy, Doctor, I would take great care in speaking otherwise." His voice dropped at least two octaves.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt!" he replied quickly, "As I said, I have known Danielle since she was three years old. The last few years she had been somewhat of a recluse, actually both her and Jean-Pierre were…"

"Yes, I know."

"My apologies if I implied anything…I am truly happy to know that the two of you will marry. When, may I ask?"

"Within the next few days, I plan to take her to Boscherville. She is in Versailles at the moment but I will be going for her tonight, if all goes well."

"Well, please give her my best wishes." He said with genuine feeling.

Erik sat back again, appeased that no harm was done, "I shall do just that, thank you."

"So…I have answered your question….I hope you will answer my curiosity…"

"About Madame Durand."

"Yes."

"She committed suicide, Doctor."

He gasped, "How do you know this?"

"I obtained a journal, from approximately the last year of her life. She wrote about the suicide in it…all planned out, you see. She wrote about why she was doing it, how she planned on doing it, and when."

"Suicide…by what method?" Étienne said again, as if saying it would make it more plausible. He simply could not comprehend a fine woman like Geneviève Durand taking her own life.

"She notes that she obtained a vile of colocynth, a pure extract and very concentrated. She said she planned on mixing it with her tea to hide the bitter taste."

"Oh dear God…she suffered so…and yes, the symptoms could very well be mistaken for severe appendicitis, except that the victim dies so suddenly with the colocynth."

Erik simply nodded and let the doctor stew over the new information.

"And Jean-Pierre knew this?"

"He must have known she committed suicide. She said she planned on leaving a note for Jean-Pierre. He found her, I am sure he found the notes as well, but he decided to have it covered up."

"So Danielle does not know her mother took her own life?"

"No, she will soon enough, Jean-Pierre did not tell her anything. I found the journal in her absence and there is a passage, folded and addressed to her, but I did not read it."

"It will be a terrible blow." He sighed.

"Yes, but I will be there for her… she will not suffer with it alone."

Étienne paused, catching the sincerity in his eyes, that now so resembled Madeleine's. Could it be that the once unaffectionate, unfeeling child could now be truly in love? He never thought it would happen, and dearly wished that Madeleine had lived to see it for herself.

With a shrug, Erik stood up, "Forgive the short nature of my visit, Doctor, but I must be leaving now. Perchance, could you do me the favor of copying your notes of that particular day for me, so I may have them? I have a meeting of the board of directors of the opera house and I will just barely make it home to retrieve my papers as it is. My associate has yet to return from Rouen and I fear he might not arrive in time to retrieve the copy from you himself." He said as he began to walk to the door.

Jumping up, Étienne joined him, "Copy of my notes? Why would you need to take my notes to the opera house board?"

"Because Richard Dupré is my fiancée's accuser and he is on the board…pardon me but I have not the time to explain more. I merely hope that if I show him that Jean-Pierre has lied about the pregnancy, he will leave her alone, I do not wish to take more drastic measures to ensure Danielle's reputation."

Étienne's eyes widened as he scratched his chin, "I am sorry, but I cannot allow a copy of my notes to circulate around the board in this manner…."

Erik's eyes grew dark and he turned sharply, getting into the doctor's face and grabbing him by his shirt collar before he could finish his sentence. "You mean to tell me I shall have to go in there with no concrete proof of her innocence? Do you not understand what is at stake here...?"

"Monsieur….please….what I mean to say is that I cannot give a copy of my files to the board for keeping, but if you wish, I shall go to them and offer my expert testimony, if they so desire…"

Erik stopped cold, his eyes softening and he released Étienne, straightening the man's coat, "I see. Yes, that would be most acceptable."

Étienne released a breath while rolling his eyes.

"Forgive me, Doctor. This situation has me…on edge. I assure you I meant no disrespect."

"Understandable under the circumstances, of course." He replied as Erik headed again for the door.

"Five o'clock, I shall have the upper floor exit door open for you. The board room is midway down the corridor on the right. My associate, Jules Bernard shall wait for you."

"I will be there."

As Erik opened the door, Étienne followed him out to his newly arrived carriage, noting the young man sitting on the top and nodding politely.

"May I ask you something…Erik?" he stopped him with a slight tug on his arm.

Erik turned back to look at him. Normally, he is put off by someone's physical restraint, even one so mild, but for some reason this time, he didn't care. "Yes, of course."

"Where did you run to…after you left Boscherville?"

"I did not run…at least not long. I was kidnapped and held by Gypsies. After a while, well, you see Doctor, this unfortunate disfigurement played into my own hands and I became quite the sideshow magician…eventually, I learned their ways and I remained with them for three years before moving on…" he told him bluntly.

He shook his head, "A young child you were…after you did not return, your mother feared you dead. She cried many a night…."

Erik's eyes narrowed, "How long did you stay with her after I left?"

"She ended the relationship with me the night you ran away, refusing to send you…well…" Étienne shrugged but Erik nodded in understanding. "I had initially told her I would remain a month, but that month dragged into two. I thought after you were gone, perhaps she would be willing to rekindle….but no, she was too grief stricken. I decided then to return to Paris."

Erik turned away and stepped into the carriage, his mind taking it all in. She had chosen him over Doctor Bayre, yet he never knew… he'd left before he could discover her true feelings. God, did she truly love him after all, or was it simply too little too late?

"I should like to hear of your adventures sometime, Erik. Perhaps one day, you could pay me another call…" He said.

Erik nodded, his eyes almost glistening now as they locked onto Étienne's, yet said nothing in reply but, "Five o'clock." and the carriage pulled away.

* * *

It did not take long for Erik to arrive in Le Vezinet, but he was haggard and rushed, becoming more and more anxious to have the meeting begin and end so he could go for Danielle. When he spotted a second carriage out front of his home, he practically flew from his own carriage into the house. 

_Finally_….he was sure it was Jules.

"Monsieur…." Emma greeted him as she came down the stairs.

He nodded, "Emma. Is Jules here?" he asked her.

"Yes, Monsieur, he is waiting for you in the library," she said and she started to help him remove his cape, but he stopped her.

"No time…we will be leaving out again shortly for the opera house…" then he started out for the library as Emma called out, "…wait….you have guests…"

But he did not hear her.

He threw open the library doors open, ready to rake Jules over the coals for his late return from Rouen but when he looked inside, what he found made him stop dead in his tracks. There, sitting on the couch off to the left of the door was an older man and woman, drinking tea and indulging in Gisèle's sweet cakes. Sitting across from them in a wingback chair was Jules, who upon seeing Erik's anxious face almost turned pale. He quickly stood.

"Monsieur…" he said apprehensively. "I know I am late but…"

Erik stopped him and took a deep breath, taking a moment to straighten his jacket and brush his hair back with his hands, "Monsieur Bernard. It seems have guests…"

With a gesture from Jules, Armand Leroy stood up and joined them. Then he said, "Monsieur Renault, I present…Monsieur Leroy…Mademoiselle Danielle's grandfather."

The look on Erik's face was priceless. Even more relief fell off his weary shoulders, so much so that at the very moment, he could almost kiss the man. Eyebrows raised, he shot out his hand quickly, "The name is Erik, Monsieur Leroy, a pleasure, welcome to my home."

"I am Armand and the pleasure is mine, Erik…please allow me to introduce you to my wife, Sophia…" he gestured to her and she gave him a lovely smile…Danielle's smile. She had a kind, but fragile demeanor that reminded him very much of his mother's friend, Mademoiselle Marie Perrault. He momentarily wondered if Madame Leroy was also afraid of spiders, but of course knew it would be inappropriate to ask.

"Madame, welcome. My apologies for not being here to receive you properly, I had business to attend to. I hope your wait has not been long." He approached, then took her hand and kissed it.

"Thank you, Monsieur…and no, we have only arrived just moments ago and have been enjoying your cooks delicious sweet cakes. And please call me Sophia."

Armand sat down again next to his wife as Erik went to his desk, unbuttoning his jacket and deciding to remove his cape after all. He draped it over his arm. "I am to assume that your meeting with the Leroy's was successful then?" he asked Jules.

"Yes, most successful. They are here to meet Danielle. They had been told by Jean-Pierre that she died in childbirth, along with Geneviève."

Erik nodded, knowing what had been written in the journals.

"Do you know why Jean-Pierre would lie to us?" Armand asked Erik. "Monsieur Bernard told us you might have some answers for us."

He looked at them sympathetically and said, "It appears from a journal I have acquired of your daughter, pertaining to the last year of her life, Jean-Pierre was rather possessive and jealous."

"So all the lies he told us was to…"

"Was to keep you apart from your daughter. He was obsessed with Geneviève and did not wish for anyone else to be an influence on her life but himself. It was a rather slow process of isolation, mind you, something that took many years. By the time she discovered just what he had done, she felt powerless to fight it."

"Our dear Geneviève….if we had only known…" Sophia sighed.

Armand put his arm around her and asked, "And what about Danielle?"

"Geneviève speaks of the jealousy he developed in regards to the relationship that she had with Danielle…the closeness…he had only wanted his wife around, now he was forced to live with and raise a child he never wanted. Of course he appeared to love Danielle for the sake of Geneviève, but truly he thought she was simply in the way."

"We never knew that about him, he appeared to be a stable man, a good business man…" Armand said.

"Yes, even Danielle thought him to be a good business man, but essentially, he stole from the shop, padding the books to make it appear they made very little profit. Yet any good accountant, like Jules here, could easily see through it. We found the books and it appears that he took the extra money and squandered it on a drink, gambling debts and a mistress he saw often in Paris."

"Dear God. So, bottom line, she was his meal ticket…"

"Yes, he used her love for him to keep her working night and day so he had money to take and do with as he wanted."

"This is terrible…I am almost afraid to ask what else might be in this journal." Sophia said.

"Yes. I am afraid it is not pleasant." He threw a glance to Jules. Now was not the time to tell them that their daughter had in fact committed suicide.

"Perhaps we could discuss the remainder of the journal another time, right now, Monsieur Erik and I must attend a meeting." Jules told the Leroy's as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Erik.

"What is this?"

"It is a copy of their family record, showing that Geneviève Durand was actually a Leroy. There is a birth certificate too. I think it will come in very handy in proving Danielle's true birthright."

Erik placed the papers in his pocket and nodded, "Good work. I will fill you in on my information from Doctor Bayre when we are on our way to the meeting."

"Of course."

Erik turned to Armand and Sophia, "I do sincerely apologize for coming in and leaving you again so quickly, in truth, I only arrived here to gather my valise and find Monsieur Bernard, this meeting is of the utmost importance and we must not be late."

"Please, Erik, do not apologize, we understand, Monsieur Bernard explained the significance of today's meeting. I hope that you are successful." Sophia told him.

He smiled brightly at her and once again kissed her hand, simply amazed at how much she favored Danielle, especially the eyes and that warm, bright smile. He turned to Armand, "I hope that you will be staying here in my home for a few days at least. I would be honored to have you as my guests." He told them as he grabbed his valise from his desk and threw his cape around his shoulders.

"Yes, we would love to stay here, thank you for your hospitality." Armand said.

"As I am going to pick up Danielle this evening, we will be returning tomorrow morning, until then, my staff will show you the gardens, the stables and make you more food then you can eat in one lifetime. And I shall arrange for my personal carriage to remain here at your disposal, so you may take in the sights of Paris at your leisure."

"Thank you." Both Sophia and Armand said.

"Emma!" Erik called out when he reached the library door.

"Yes, Monsieur." She answered, running to him. With a nod of goodbye to the Leroy's, he pulled Emma into the foyer.

"Extend every courtesy to the Leroy's, give them the Garden Suite. After my meeting with the board, I am going straight to Versailles to bring Danielle back, we will not return until tomorrow. Jacques will come back here alone to return my valise. He knows to contact Monsieur Bernard if a problem arises."

"Yes, of course Monsieur. Do not be concerned, we shall take great care of The Leroy's, they are most gracious."

He gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, saying "As always…I know I never have to worry when you are around…" before Jules joined him in the foyer and they walked out of the house together before she could respond.

She couldn't have anyway, he rendered her speechless.

* * *

**A/N: The truth is finally coming out now. Four chapters til the end, they are all a bit shorter than the previous ones, but now everything will be explained. Thanks for all the reviews!**


	25. Chapter 25

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Twenty-five:

"Gentlemen…Monsieur Renault would like to address this board before you all take your votes!" Jules said, pounding his fist on the table to get the men's attentions away from their incessant chatter. Erik stood alone in the back of the conference room, his face stone cold and emotionless after waiting an extra half hour for the meeting to begin as they waited for Monsieur Mancia. Finally when the man could not be located, they voted to proceed without him, much to the chagrin of Richard Dupré.

"Yes, yes!" Monsieur Nicolas Daque added. He remained standing, rather exhausted from the petty trifling that has already ensued in the short meeting. He brushed what passed for his few remaining bunches of graying auburn hair away from his face, "Let us proceed!"

They quickly quieted down and Jules cleared his throat and he said to Daque, "Good….thank you…" before he turned to Erik and gestured for him to approach.

"We do not need to hear anything from him." Richard spoke up from his location at the very end of the table. "Let us take our vote and remove this man without further delay."

"What I have to say will be of great interest to you, Dupré." Erik replied directly to him, his face never changing expression. "I would suggest you sit back, remain silent and listen."

Dupré went to stand up defensively, but the glares from the other six men in attendance made him rethink his position. He snorted and gave them all a quick nod.

Looking straight at Richard, Erik said, "It appears that it was said here two nights ago that my fiancée, Danielle, was to have had your child eight years ago. I can tell you now that it is an absolute fabrication, told to you by Monsieur Durand."

The men all looked at Richard, then back at Erik.

"Lies! You will say anything to protect that…" he paused to think of a disparaging word for Danielle, but stopped when he saw Erik's eyes almost glowing red. "…to protect your _fiancée_." He finally spat out.

"For my fiancée, I would track down the truth, good or bad, which is precisely what I have done. I found the Durand's family physician, Doctor Étienne Bayre." He has informed me with his most sincere ethical honesty that Danielle could never have been pregnant during the year in question."

Again, the men looked around, confused, as Richard sat up and rested his elbows on the long, dark table. His eyes narrowed as he considered what he had just heard.

"Do you have tangible proof or just the tale of one physician?" Daque asked.

"He has brought with him his own records from that year. Is there anyone in here willing to challenge the good name of Doctor Bayre?" Jules asked.

There was a brief moment then where the men of the board clamored amongst themselves, discussing the matter. While they did, Erik stood calmly, glancing at Jules and tapping his foot against the wood floor.

When they all quieted down, Daque spoke up, "We all agree that Doctor Bayre is of sound reputation and his testimony will be taken as fact."

Erik nodded and released his breath as Jules said, "The doctor is here now, ready to answer any questions you may have, surely that will satisfy the board."

"Then, let us hear what he has to say."

With a nod, he went to the door, opened it and waved for Doctor Bayre to enter.

* * *

Lacie glanced up at the towering opera house as she made her way through the crowded street of Haussman, looking for Erik's carriage. Soon, she spotted it, parked directly in front of the left side entrance and saw Jacques perched on top as usual.

She know he'd be shocked to see her there, expecting she would be at the estate helping to entertain the Leroy's, but something was bothering her and she could not let it go any longer. She slowly approached the carriage and looked up at him as he read his paper. With a soft cough, she got his attention.

"Lacie!" he jumped off the carriage so fast his paper flew in all directions. "You are supposed to be home."

"I know, but I had to see you…to talk to you." She replied.

He embraced her warmly, a gesture that had become as routine as breathing. He found her icy and shivering. "How did you get here, you are cold!" he began rubbing her hands as he removed his thick coat and laid it over her shoulders.

"I walked from the blacksmiths. Stéphane was bringing a couple of horses in to be shoed and I rode with him." She sighed at the warmth of the coat and inhaled its scent, Jacques' scent.

"You will ride home with me then." He told her as he picked her up in his arms, lifting her onto the carriage to sit beside him. "Now, what is it that you wished to talk to me about?"

She paused as she thought twice about her decision. She could see Jacques study her closely as he climbed on top of the carriage next to her and she knew she had to make a decision. She wanted to know the truth, yet somehow, she didn't want to know. Could she live with the truth, or simply continue living with the possibility?

"Lacie?" he touched her cheek. "You are really concerned about something, tell me."

"Yes, I am." She threw caution to the wind. "Forgive me if it is not my place, but I must know. What happened to Monsieur Mancia?" Her soft voice blurted out quickly. Her shoulders slumped, waiting for Jacques to respond.

The very question threw him off a bit and his eyes widened. "Why would you ask me that?"

"I heard Stéphane speaking to Gisèle this morning. He overheard you speaking privately with Monsieur Erik late last evening, he could not catch all of it, but he apparently heard you say that Monsieur Mancia was _properly disposed of_."

"I see…" He silently cursed Stéphane and vowed to get even with the man for his inane eavesdropping. "Love, please do not ask me such things….Monsieur Erik trusts me and…"

"You cannot even answer me if the man is dead?"

"Lacie…"

"It is a simple question…yes…or no…"

"Yes, he is dead." He replied swiftly, his eyes locking onto hers, sure he would have to calm a growing bout of hysteria.

But she simply nodded.

He crooked his head to the side, "That is all you wanted to know?"

"Yes. I will not pretend I am distressed to hear of his death. I am glad. Honestly, I cannot understand what can possess a man to be so vile. Late at night, alone, sometimes I can feel his hands over my body and I…."

He threw up his hand to silence her. Even the faintest description of what the man had done still made him angry. "Stop. Please, or I shall find where I left him and tear his body apart."

"I am sorry."

He took her in his arms and held her tight to him, feeling her heart beating fast. "You are safe now. No one will harm you ever again, or they will have to kill me first."

Sighing, she looked up at him, "Jacques?"

"Yes?" he caressed her cheek.

"If I asked…" she started.

"Asked what?"

"_How_ he died? If I asked, would you tell me?"

His eyes darted away for a few moments, weighting his decision. "Are you asking?"

A momentary pause, then a faint whisper, "Yes, I am asking."

She was indeed such a curious little thing. She seemed to trust him enough and he knew he could never lie to her….yet, there were just some things a lady…even a potential wife…need not know.

"I do not know, love…the circumstances, it could be very disturbing…"

She raised her head and locked onto his gaze, "Jacques, I have seen many things. My mother leaving my father for another man when I was twelve and the violent fights that ensured…a neighbor slowly dying….wilting away to nothing and the doctors did not know why, until they found out she had been forced to eat rats because she had no money for food. I witnessed my father's body being run over by a wheat thresher just last year. He bled to death in my arms before help could arrive. Tell me my love…will this one man's death be more disturbing than all that I have lived so far?"

His mouth emitted a soft gasp. This was the first time she'd revealed to him, or seemingly anyone else, the harshness she'd seen in her short twenty-one years. "Baby…"

"I've gone through enough and thanks to Monsieur Erik, I've been given a new life. You see, so I can put it all behind me, and now all I ask for is your honesty. The fact that you might have killed this man on my behalf does not bother me, but I must know, either way."

That he could not argue with, "Very well…" He nodded and inhaled before beginning, "After Monsieur Erik left with the contract giving him possession of Monsieur Mancia's shares, I took him down through a secret passageway to the third cellar. There is a room there…it is full of mirrors…Monsieur Erik showed me it several months ago. It is truly the most frightening room I have ever seen. He allowed me the chance to spend a few moments inside…"

"Mirrors…and what did you see?"

"Indescribable, love….illusions…shadows…horrible images. I swore they seemed to come at me from all sides, like they were going to attack me…accompanied with feelings of utter anger and terror. I barely lasted ten minutes before I screamed to be let out. Monsieur Erik said I was one of only two men who had been allowed access to that room and been let out alive. He also said never to stay in the room alone, or I will become trapped, go mad and kill myself. I believe him, nor did I ask how he came up with such a ghastly device."

"My love…" she shook her head in astonishment, "some things, perhaps are just best left unanswered."

"Yes, I believe so. Anyway, I remembered it and decided it was the perfect revenge for Mancia. And who knows, this might even by why Monsieur Erik showed it to me in the first place, so that it might be at my disposal whenever the need arose."

"So you took him there and locked him in this mirrored room?" He nodded and she crossed herself, "Dear God…"

"Yes, he was always such a coward anyway, so it did not take long for his panicked screams to end. He barely lasted ten minutes and when I returned, I found he had strangled himself with his own belt."

She studied him a moment, allowing it all to sink in, "So, you did not kill him with your own hands…"

"No, he killed himself, love."

Jacques heard a vocal exhale of relief and she asked him, "Where is his body?"

"Weighted down and sunk in the lake below the opera house, down past the fifth cellar, another place Monsieur Erik showed me. Hard to get to, even harder carrying a significantly overweight man…"

"And the blood on your shirt?"

He gave a soft laugh, "Actually that is mine…I cut my hand as I was cutting the rope to secure him with.

"Oh, Jacques! I heard about all the blood and I just assumed…!" she laughed and shoved him playfully before turning serious again. "So, Monsieur Erik did not instruct you….?"

"No, he only found out later, after Mancia's death. I only told him what Stéphane told Gisèle, that Mancia was properly disposed of. That is all he knows right now, much safer that way, considering the problems he faces."

A long pause fell as they simply held each other close, Lacie feeling safer than she had felt in years. She truly understood now, even in her short time under his employ, the loyalty Erik's servants showed him, for she felt the same.

"You would do anything for Monsieur Erik. We all would." she finally asked him.

His fingers ran through her long, dark hair like it was water, kissing the top of her head as he thought about the impact of that statement. "Yes…

…and I feel he would do anything for us…"

* * *

"So you see here, Monsieur Dupré, Mademoiselle Durand was not with child when I examined her on the eighth of September." Doctor Bayre said to a very stunned Richard, showing him the short snippet pertaining to her in his records. "And you can see here that her weight taken at the three examinations remained within five pounds…" he closed his file as Dupré slumped down into his chair.

"Monsieur Dupré, do you conclude that the findings of this doctor are indeed true?" Daque asked him.

"They must be…" he replied softly as his world came crashing down around him. For years….eight years….he thought he had a child somewhere. And while it didn't cross his mind everyday, it certainly crossed it. It was a devastating blow, and he knew it would be an equal shock for his mother.

Even for all the disturbance and trouble the man had caused them, most everyone in the room suddenly felt a great deal of empathy for Richard Dupré.

All except Erik.

"Then you admit now that the accusations you made publicly two nights ago were indeed false?" He asked him.

Richard merely nodded, his eyes downcast.

"What was that?" He pressed his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"Monsieur Renault, this is not necessary." Firmin said.

"It is _most_ necessary…" he growled in response to him, then turned back to Richard, "Please repeat your answer."

Richard's head shot up and he practically screamed, "Yes!"

A collective release from all the men present could be felt as the thick tension that had built over the course of the short meeting began to lift.

"Well, if you will excuse me a few moments, I shall show Doctor Bayre to the door." Daque said as he stood up. Everyone nodded politely and thanked Étienne for taking the time and effort to come to the proceedings. When the two men left the room, Erik proceeded, unable to wait for Daque's return.

"Monsieur Dupré, I expect an apology to be made to her, to restore her name with just as much publicity as you have slandered it, I will have my associate set up a small article in the Époque..."

Again, Richard snorted, "There is still the matter of this so called false marriage…."

"Monsieur Renault himself said he planned on marrying the young woman…." Jules reminded him. "Besides, if I recall correctly, Monsieur, you said at the previous meeting that whether or not he married her was irrelevant."

"I changed my mind. We must all agree here that a man who represents the opera house should not have a wife that is…well, a commoner…not of at least _some_ high social standard, a nobody…."

"I warned you…" Erik's face turned red and he started around the table to where Richard sat.

"On the contrary, although it truly should not matter, she is in fact of social status…." Jules said, putting his hand on Erik's shoulder to keep him calm.

"What do you mean?" Monsieur Fournier, another investor, asked.

"What I mean, gentlemen, is that Danielle Durand is the granddaughter of Armand Leroy."

"The investor and businessman from Rouen?" Firmin asked.

"The same."

The men were all shocked at the news and another silence fell as they looked at one another, shrugging their shoulders.

"Do you have proof of this?" Richard demanded. "Danielle never told me she a member of the Leroy family, and besides, if that were true, she wouldn't have been living in that paltry little dress shop."

Pulling the birth certificate out of pocket, Jules slid it toward Richard. "She never knew…here…it will show that her mother's maiden name was actually Leroy."

Richard studied the paper closely before shoving it toward the center of the table for the other men to examine. He said contemptibly, "She is still half Durand."

"Maybe. But she is the sole heir to the Leroy's estate. That is what is most significant."

Monsieur Fornier spoke up, "This is definitely important news. Although we cannot truly control who you marry, Monsieur Renault, this will help quell the many questions that are bound to be asked of this incident. I therefore submit for a vote that there are no grounds to remove Erik Renault as principal investor and majority shareholder…"

"I second the motion!" Monsieur Fournier added.

"Wait!" Richard shouted as Monsieur Daque made his way back into the room. "This is all well and good…but I…" he stumbled for his last ditch effort to stall the decision, "I think we should wait until we find Monsieur Mancia…it is not a fair vote if he is not here to make _his_ opinion known…"

"Well, if you recall, Monsieur Dupré, we voted to proceed without Monsieur Mancia, therefore his opinion cannot be noted in record." Daque replied when he took his seat.

"No, again, I think we should wait until we find him…"

With a grin, Jules produced Mancia's contract from his pocket and handed it to Monsieur Daque. "I believe this will take care of Monsieur Mancia's vote, and _can_ be noted in the record."

Daque took the contract and read it silently to himself before replying, "My dear God…"

"What?" Richard asked.

"This says that he has chosen to leave the opera house….it is a letter of resignation of his position and a contract, turning over _all_ his shares to Monsieur Renault."

"That puts him well above…all of us total in shares!" Firmin exclaimed.

"Impossible" Richard reached over the table and grabbed the paper from Daque as the other investors clammed amongst themselves again.

"I assure you, it is legitimate." Jules said, pointing out the notary seal and two witness signatures.

"How was this obtained, and when?" Monsieur Fournier asked.

"It was obtained yesterday morning, I assume. I was not present." Erik answered, then turned and walked away from the table, smirking.

"I met with Monsieur Mancia yesterday morning early, he said nothing to me that would indicate he was selling out." Richard said. He threw the paper toward Daque and sat back in his seat.

"I came to Monsieur Mancia." Jules lied, "I told him that Monsieur Renault was well aware of the fact that he had helped Monsieur Dupré lure Mademoiselle Danielle to the top of the stairwell, where she was publicly humiliated. I told him Monsieur Renault wished for him to take the honorable way out by resigning….and as you can see here in this letter of resignation…" he tapped the paper with is finger for Daque to see, "he speaks about Monsieur Dupré's part in all of this…how he had planned on luring Mademoiselle Danielle to his office, blackmail her for information about his child, promising Monsieur Renault would not suffer financially for it, then how he told Monsieur Mancia how he planned on not keeping the promise…forcing him out and buying his shares."

"Yes. Buy up my shares before, Monsieur Daque…_who is afraid of his own shadow_…could be able to stop him." Erik added from the back of the room as he paced, continuing to check his pocket watch.

Monsieur Daque threw a rather irritated stare at Richard as Monsieur Fournier asked him, "Is this true?"

"Taken out of context…yes perhaps…I…" Richard stammered.

"I recall you telling me at your mother's party, that you had indeed planned on returning to Paris to have a more active role in the opera house…." Monsieur André said.

"Well, yes I did, but…"

"Yes, I recall the very conversation. You said that if all went well, you would acquire more shares in the near future…" Fournier added. "You even asked me if I would be willing to part with a few of my own…"

"You know you are not allowed to privately barter for anyone's shares." Daque said.

"I understand, it was merely business talk…just chewing the fat if you will…"

"Just give us an answer, Monsieur Dupré, is what Monsieur Mancia says true or not?"

"Alright, yes!" he answered loudly, jumping from his chair. "Yes, I planned on blackmailing Danielle Durand for information, and running Renault out of the opera house! But look at him!" He glared at Firmin and Andre, "Did you all just suddenly forget that a year ago, this man almost burned this opera house to the ground? Did you all suddenly forget your reaction at the party when he walked in, trying to be respectable? I saw your faces! You do not want this man here anymore than I do!"

"This is enough!" Daque shouted, standing straight up, "No matter what we might or might not feel about Monsieur Renault, it does not excuse the fact that you tried to obtain his shares by fraud. Therefore, I find that Monsieur Renault will _not_ be removed from his position here, and the decision is final! This meeting is adjourned until one week's time when we will reconvene to decide what to do in light of this new information."

"Thank you, gentlemen, now if you will excuse us, Monsieur Renault wishes to be on his way." Jules nodded to Erik and both men headed for the door.

"You will not keep those shares, Renault!" Richard shouted towards him as the men all stood up, preparing to leave, "And you will not have Danielle!" The words came out so fast he hardly could stop it. _Danielle_…yes, he did still have feelings for her, strong feelings. How could he have kept them buried for so long?

Erik turned sharply, his face turning stone cold. Dupré, in his opinion, was now an open target, but Jules held him back, speaking calmly. "Now is not the time, Monsieur…think of Mademoiselle…

"Yes, of course…" he growled under his breath, "…let us go, I shall deal with him later. Now, I am going to bring Danielle home where she belongs…"

And without so much as another word, the two men departed, leaving Richard Dupré to call out behind them, "This is not over!"

But they knew it was.


	26. Chapter 26

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

(Lyrics to the song Come What May courtesy of the movie Moulin Rouge)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-six:

Wringing his hands, Erik's heart beat faster and fast the closer he came to Michelle's house in Versailles. When the carriage finally stopped, he slowly descended it and exhaled, looking around before going to the driver. He paid the smiling young man more than a few extra francs for finding the home in the dark of night using the badly scribbled directions that Jacques had given him.

With instructions to the driver to return in one hour sharp, Erik approached the house, the only sound in the stillness was the echo of his shoe heels clicking against the stone walkway. He stopped a few feet from the front door, observing no light coming from the front windows. He chose not to knock, but decided instead to try around the back of the house.

When he came around the corner in the small garden, he could see candlelight illuminating on the newly blossomed flowers that lay just below a bottom floor window. He slipped quietly to the pane, pleased to find it open and crouched down to look inside.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw Danielle alone inside a small sitting room, sitting in a chair along the back wall, a book in her lap, seemingly neglected. Surrounding her were several candles, well lit and bright, making her almost glow golden. Her downcast eyes were transfixed on the fireplace, looking at the black soot as the last tiny few embers died down.

Danielle's mind wondered, recalling the events of the past couple of days, and wondering what the next few held for her. Michelle had fulfilled her promise, speaking to Madame Souvigny earlier in the day about her taking over while she was out with the baby. The woman had wholeheartedly agreed. One obstacle down, she had a job. Tomorrow she would look for a new place to live. It all appeared to be falling into place.

But none of it mattered.

She didn't want to move on. She didn't want to be away from Paris, from her dress shop, from Evelyne…Nathalie…Emma, Lacie, Jacques…

…or Erik.

_Why does my heart cry…?_

_Feelings I can't hide…._

_You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me…_

_And please….believe me when I say…_

_I love you…_

She began to sing wistfully over and over the same words she had left Erik on the piano…the same song she had heard her mother sing late at night, days before she died. She could not understand why those words compelled her to such an emotional outcry and she felt powerless to stop it. Everything she did, everything she saw reminded her of Erik. Each touch, smell, taste…it was all tightly woven like thin strands of silk, and like her sanity, they were just as delicate.

Erik recognized what she sang immediately when he'd seen those very same words in Geneviève's journal just the night before. Words, that came from a voice that filled the room with a sickening despair…drifted out the window and surrounded him, forcing his lips to curl into a sneer in an attempt to shake the disturbing sound. It was so obvious she was feeling the same sorrow her mother must have felt. But why? Did she not realize he would come for her?

Finally, he could take no more…he had to stop it.

She studied the book in her lap, but the words on the page just rambled together, blurred. Then as she looked up, her voice still floating throughout the room, she saw it. One of her side candles went out. She stopped singing, eyebrows raised as she knew she had not felt enough breeze coming through the window to extinguish it. Indeed, as her eyes scanned, none of the other candles, nor the gas lit lamps were even flickering.

In a huff, she rose from the chair to cross the room and relight the candle but suddenly, two more candles on another nearby table extinguished with a soft rush of unfelt air. Just as her eyes flew to that, three more candles died out, one after another, followed then by the gas lamps until second by second, she was becoming encased in darkness, except the single candle that sat on the table closest to her chair.

She turned to the small side table and there underneath, seemingly out of nowhere, a piece of paper slowly fluttered down, resting next to the brass candle stick. She sat down, and with narrowed eyes, she picked up the paper and opened it, looking at the one sentence that was written there, in black ink.

_Maybe someday…my fair maiden says…you will sing a song that is just for me…_

She read outloud a second time, then stopped, recognizing the words instantly. Her eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to see past the one poorly lit candle.

Then it began…

_Never knew I could feel like this  
Like I've never seen the sky before  
I want to vanish inside your kiss  
Every day I Love You more and more_

"What is….happening…?" her voice whispered helplessly as the unknown words and beautiful melody seemed to pour in from all around her and instantly she found herself swaying, her eyes closing, just as she had done the day of the grand opening when Erik sang to her.

_Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing  
Telling me to give you everything  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
But I Love You, until the end of time_

"Oh, Erik, is that you…?" she whispered almost inaudibly, feeling her body succumbing to the strange, sweet sound. It was almost too good to be true….had he written these words just for her?

But, what if this was not Erik…what if this was just an illusion…a stress induced hallucination meant to trick her into a momentary sense of blissful happiness? She had dozed earlier, she could be merely dreaming ….yes, that's what this was…it had to be a dream. Just a beautiful, wishful, hope filled dream.

_Come what may  
Come what may  
I will Love You  
Until my dying day_

Oh, but if it was a dream, it was the most vivid dream imaginable. She could feel her breasts ache and swell, her hands immediately touching them as more and more, the now familiar ache in the pit of her stomach began to rise, causing her to lay back in her chair, almost writhing in an attempt to reach the edge of the blissful peak. _Dear God, help me…_

Erik's breathing increased as his muscles tensed, fists clinching the edges of his cape and twisting methodically as he observed Danielle's strong reaction to his voice. It spurred him on and made him feel he could sing until the end of time…

_And there's no mountain too high  
No river too wide  
Sing out this song,  
I'll be there by your side…_

But as all dreams do, this eventually had to end. Danielle forced her eyes open as she suddenly blurted out, "Stop!"

Erik's mouth gaped, ceasing his song, his body screaming in protest.

A long pause fell as Danielle could only hear the sound of her own heart beating, fast.

"Danielle…please…" Erik's soft spoken words finally drifted in from the open window, when he knew he could no longer remain silent.

She shook her head, "No, you are not real…you are an illusion…a phantom's voice out of the darkness meant to fill me with false hope…"

His eyes softened as he gazed upon her. "Yes, I am the Phantom, my heart, but I assure you, I am flesh and blood. Look at your window and you shall see me…"

She turned to the open window as suddenly, every candle and gas lamp was relit, the sudden bright light flooding her eyes. She blinked several times, then gasped when she could see the white mask shining bright from outside the open window and she cried out, "Erik!"

"Please, come to me, my Danielle…."

Quick as a flash she ran for the door next to the window and opened it. He was there in an instant and she threw herself into his waiting arms, almost wailing with joy.

"I have missed you so…" Erik whispered as he inhaled the scent of her hair, his arms holding her as tight as he felt he could without hurting her.

"I thought you did not want to…." She sobbed, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his neck. She clung to him with all the strength she had.

"Come now…" he pulled away just slightly to look at her, wiping away the tears. "did you think I would come to bring you home?"

"When you did not follow me, I assumed…"

Lifting her up effortlessly in his arms, he took her back into the small sitting room where he sat her down softly onto a small couch. He kneeled before her, his fingers caressing her soft, tear soaked cheeks. "Danielle, I was frantic when you ran out of the opera house. I arrived home as soon as I could and it almost destroyed me to find you had left. I searched all over and when I discovered where you had gone, I knew you were safe. As much as it hurt me for us to be apart, I felt it best to let you remain here while I cleared your name…but I was always going to come for you."

"Erik…" she whispered. "I could not stop thinking about you….I am so sorry for everything…if it was not for me you…"

"I would be lonely…living my life as I had for the past year, without knowing what true love really is….you showed me that, Danielle. How could I possibly let that go, how could I possibly let _you_ go?"

"But your position….?"

"Is secure."

"And Richard?"

"Now knows you have never been pregnant. Your father has told many lies, that in time, he will be accountable for, as will everyone who has been in our way, my love. So much has happened that you must know, but for now, all that matters is that we return to our home."

_Our home_…she loved the sound of that. Leaning forward she fell into his arms once more, "Erik, I love you so much. I never thought anyone would look upon me, much less love me the way that you do. I knew who I was inside, deep down, but no one else saw it. I stayed hidden away. If it had not been for you needing a wife…I would have never found the courage to break away from my self induced prison. You make me so happy, happier than I have been in nine years…"

He looked down and was pleased that she still wore the wedding ring on her finger. "I cannot imagine my life without you now. You gave me such an important gift, you showed me how to give and receive love, something I was sure would never happen. I have thought of you as my wife for nearly two weeks and it has become as natural as my own breathing… I do not wish to stop, ever. Please, Danielle, will you marry me?"

She gasped, "Oh my…" then Erik asked her, "Now, how do you like that for a proposal?"

Laughing, she melted into his embrace, "It was perfect! And yes, I will marry you. I will give you everything I am…"

He kissed her neck, her cheek, her soft lips over and over, "My love…everything I have is yours…say you will never leave me again…promise me…"

"I promise, Erik…"

And with that, their lips met again, as if for the very first time….

* * *

Madame Dupré glanced at the ornate grandfather clock in her library as she saw a carriage finally pull up to the house. One thirty. She gasped in shock as she saw Richard stumbling towards the front door with the help of the carriage driver. 

She just made it down the stairs, almost tripping over her long dressing gown, when the door flew open and Richard collapsed in the floor of the foyer, his eye rolling back in his head.

"Dear heavens! What happened? Is he injured?" she asked the carriage driver.

The older man with a heavy Irish accent answered amusingly, "Ay, no Ma'am…a bit too much of the ale he had this evening…stumbled out of two drink houses before I found him. Thought it best to bring him home before he did harm to himself…"

She grimaced, staring down at her son, almost passed out and mumbling incoherently. "Umm…" she looked back at the driver, "would you be so kind as to help me get him upstairs to his room?"

He nodded and bent down, pulling Richard to his feet, popping his face several times, "Up and at 'um now lad…that's the way…"

"Wha…what is going on?" Richard asked, fighting his way out of alcohol induced haze.

"Just getting you to your feet now, just be a good lad and hold on to me…" The driver answered as he threw one of Richard's arms over his shoulder to steady him.

Madame Dupré said nothing as she led the way up the stairs.

* * *

"Coffee…" 

It was well after sunrise before Richard was awake enough to say something that made sense.

Madame Dupré had spent most of a good hour and a half after his return ridding him of his stench filled shirt and bathing his face with cool water, then watching as he passed out for good before taking it upon herself to retire to bed. Now, he sat on the edge of his bed, drinking a strong cup of hot coffee, holding his pounding head in his hands.

"Dear God…how much did I drink?" he asked rhetorically.

"Enough to make you pass out in the foyer." His mother answered shortly, sleep deprived and rather annoyed. "Honestly, I have not seen you act this way in years, I had thought you near dead."

"Believe me, Mother. I was." He groaned, his body aching.

When she scowled, not amused, he looked straight at her and felt suddenly very ashamed of himself, "Forgive me. I know I should not have done this."

"Then perhaps you should tell me why you did. I had been waiting up for you all night and here it is, after six o'clock in the morning and I still do not know what happened at the board meeting, or for that matter, why you ran off drinking."

"That damn meeting…" he groaned loudly.

"Yes," she replied impatiently, "did they remove Monsieur Renault?"

"No." he snorted. He was not in the mood to discuss anything to do with Erik Renault. "And quite frankly, at this point, I do not care to hear his name again anytime soon."

She studied him closely, sensing more had happened, but dared not ask, at least not at that time.

"Well, did you at least find out about the child?"

"There is no child."

She slumped down into the chair by the door, "So, the child did die after all."

"No, Mother. There was _never_ a child. Danielle had never been pregnant. Jean-Pierre made it all up."

"What? Why? I mean, how did you…?"

"Renault brought in Danielle's doctor, Étienne Bayre. He showed us the records eight years ago. Danielle was never noted as being pregnant in the three times she went to him during that time." He told her despondently.

"God…why…why would Jean-Pierre lie to you?"

"My guess is he did not wish for Danielle and I to be married, his reasons for that, I am sure were rather similar to yours, he disapproved of me just as much as you disapproved of her." He stood and walked around the room, shaking his head.

She chose to ignore that Jean-Pierre would even think of disapproving of her son. "Well, Richard…you know the truth now and perhaps its all for the best. You can return to your own wife and children and forget all about this ugly incident. At least you do not have to have any ties with her."

"Yes, I suppose so." He looked out the window and watched the morning breeze blow across the tall grass near the stables below.

"Richard? Does this not make you happy now?"

He shrugged and she approached, touching his arm. It was all beginning to make sense. "Dear God, Richard. This is what this was about all along, was it not? Danielle. It was not about the child, it was about her?"

"Oh, Mother, please, do not…." But he knew she was right.

How could she have been so blind? "It is. For years, you thought you had a child out there, yet you never did anything about it, until you saw Danielle here at the party. Then all of a sudden, you wish to find the child? Saying you had regrets? No, you still love her…that is your regret. You are fooling yourself if you believe otherwise. After all these years apart, you still wish you had married her. The fact that she rejected you, tried to say you were mistaken about her identity…it just made you angry….angry enough to want to destroy her and possibly her marriage to Monsieur Renault. It is jealousy…pure and simple. Tell me I am wrong."

"No, Mother, you are not wrong." He said with a defeated tone. Maybe, he had just truly come to the conclusion himself. He saw Danielle at the party, seemingly happy, lovely in her fancy gown, the obvious affluence…the wealth he should be lavished on her, not Erik Renault. What she saw in an arsonist, murderer…a sheer raging animal, he would surely never reconcile.

"Forget her son, go home to your wife and children. That is where you belong. Forget the opera house, forget Danielle, forget Paris." She urged, but she knew it would not be so simple. She could see his face change as he turned towards her, his brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed and darkened. No, he had unfinished business.

"Not yet, Mother. I still have to call upon someone." He told her in a deeper toned voice.

She strongly urged him with a grip on his arm, "Please, no son, leave Monsieur Renault alone, it is over…."

"Oh no, it is not Renault I plan to visit, Mother, it is Jean-Pierre."

* * *

"My God, Erik, I had no idea…" Danielle said sadly as she started reading the first few pages of her mother's journal on the carriage ride home from the little inn just outside of Versailles, where they had spent the night after leaving Michelle's. Erik had brought it with him, so he could tell her as much information as he could before she met her grandparents. 

Or as much as he thought she could handle.

It had been a tearful, but joyous goodbye at Michelle's after Danielle awakened her to gather her belongings. The carriage took them on to the inn and they arrived in their room during the early hours of the morning. Tired, emotionally and physically, they did not even make love, opting just to hold one another and get a few hours sleep before leaving just after a pleasant sunrise breakfast. Erik did not mind, even if his body did complain, he knew he would make love to her again very soon.

"…that Father told my grandparents we had died…it is unfathomable. I know their marriage was not perfect, but they appeared relatively happy…"

"I believe they were, for a time, until his gradual isolation and jealousy took over, then of course the discovery of his lies."

"But for Mother to kill herself…over something that could just so easily be resolved by finding my grandparents? I do not understand it. Why could she not just come to me with this? Why did she not trust me?" she looked up at Erik, who could do nothing but shrug.

"I do not feel it was an issue of trust, my love. Your mother loved you so much. She spared you all this heartache, keeping it all inside because she knew how much you loved your father, but in the end, I believe perhaps she was just too weak to handle the lies and unhappiness." He said.

"So she took her own life, thinking he would take care of me."

"Yes."

"But he hates me, and perhaps he always did…."

"Possibly…"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Why does he not love me?"

He leaned forward and took her hand in his, "I am sorry, I wish I knew the answer to that. The reasons lie deep inside and may not ever be unlocked. Believe me, I know what it is like to feel the rejection of a parent who never loved you. But…you were lucky…your mother did love you, you have that much…"

"Yes, there is that." She wiped the tears from her face and gave him a deep, heartfelt smile. Erik had told her about the passage her mother had left for her at the back of the journal, but she knew at this point, she would not have the strength to read it. In time, she would, but now, she had to think of the future, "And my grandparents? They never knew I existed…they must have been so lonely."

"Yes, but they know you are alive now and they are excited about meeting you."

"As I am. But…"

"Yes?"

"I am also excited about going home…seeing Emma, Lacie…eating sweetcakes…and of course…" she smiled, "…being with you."

He laughed and pulled her to his lap, wrapping his cape around her and stroking her hair as he did so and together, they could see the house as they started into the gate.

* * *

**A/N: Two chapters to go. How sad that its almost coming to an end... but again, thanks to all who read and review this story, it means the world to me!**


	27. Chapter 27

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Chapter Twenty-seven:

The door of the library was just barely ajar as Erik peered inside, his eyes searching for Danielle. It was after three o'clock in the morning and he hated feeling the other side of his bed empty. He saw her standing by the window, looking out at the rain that fell softly and pelted the glass window, followed by intermittent echo of soft rolling thunder. A single candle by his desk was lit, just enough to encase her in a soft glow, her silhouette obvious through the thin dressing gown she wore. She was intoxicating to view this way and again, his desire for her rose quickly.

It had been three days since their return home. She had barely gotten away from Emma and Lacie's welcoming, tearful hugs just long enough to find her grandparents on the veranda where she ran into their loving arms as if they had known each other all along. Through tears of joy, they viewed each other for the first time, hardly even speaking, simply embracing. In the Leroy's, Danielle saw her past, a final connection to true family. In Danielle, the Leroy's saw their daughter in every way, from her smile, to her laughter and yes, ever her tears. Erik was satisfied that all was well enough to let them alone to get acquainted and he reluctantly departed to meet with Jules and begin preparations for their small wedding in Boscherville.

Later in the evening, they had all met in the dining room where they enjoyed a pleasant dinner and light conversation pertaining to the weather, the places they had traveled and even Erik took to showing the Leroy's a bit of his simpler feats of magic, delighting in their simple but enthusiastic applause. But deep inside, all Erik wanted to do was take Danielle to his room, lock her away and make love to her endlessly.

And once the Leroy's retired to their room, strategically placed on the opposite end of the house, he did just that.

If it was at all possible that their passion for one another could grow, it did when they finally made love again after what to them was a long, insufferable absence. He could barely contain the fire inside as he buried himself deep within her, listening to her gasps, her whimpers of pure pleasure, feeling her arms wrap around his waist, her nails digging into his skin. It was bliss. He lost count as to how many times he loved her that night, nor did he care, all he knew was that neither of them slept until they saw the sun.

"Could you not sleep?" he asked her as he approached, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her place her hands over his.

"I suppose not." She sighed, her head falling back and resting against his chest. She had not been able to rest since the Leroy's had left earlier in the day. Although she knew she would see them again and often, she already missed them. They had bonded like…well…family over the couple of days that had stayed. Three days. Three very short days. "I just enjoyed Grandma and Grandpa's visit, I wish they did not have to leave."

"Of course, but you heard your Grandfather. He is a successful businessman and he had to return to attend that business, but do not worry, you will see them again, love." He assured her.

"I know."

He waited, feeling that the Leroy's were not the only thing on her mind.

"Erik?" she began, "What did you do with Mother's journal after we came home?"

He was right.

"In the bookcase." He answered her.

"I wish to view it now. I believe I am ready to read the passage she left for me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, tugging her shoulders to turn her so she faced him. He wanted to see her eyes.

But her eyes were indeed sincere. "Yes, I must. My grandparents took the news of Mother's suicide better than any of us expected. They are very strong and are able to handle the truth now on their own. I must do the same for myself."

Without another word, Erik walked to the bookcase, reached behind several books and pulled out the leather bound journal, then he walked over to the chair by the window and laid the book down on the table next to it. When she sat down and picked up the book, Erik began to silently walk out of the library.

"Wait!" she called behind him. "Are you leaving?"

He turned back to her, "I assumed you would wish to view it in private."

"No, would you please stay? I need you…" He came back to her and sat down on the ottoman directly in front of the chair, elbows resting on his knees. With a smile to him and an inhale to gather her bravery, she watched as Erik showed her where the passage was. The paper was folded inward halfway.

"And you have not read this?"

He shook his head.

She unfolded the paper and read the words silently to herself a few moments before her brows furrowed. "What the…?"

"What is it?"

Instead of answering, she simply read the passage again out loud, this time slowly…

_My Dearest Danielle…By now you must know that I have ended my life. As I instructed Jean-Pierre to do, he has turned my journal over to you for safe keeping…"_

She stopped abruptly, "Wait, Father was supposed to turn this over to me? You said it was found in a niche deep inside her wardrobe…"

Erik could only shrug, "Yes, it was. It's apparent now that he did actually know it was there, but did not want for you to have it."

Shaking her head, she continued…

…_I hope that, by reading what is contained in these pages, you will grow to understand the motives behind this decision. But, my darling, the reasons contained here are not the only ones. I wish for you to know the truth now and putting it in this journal would simply not do. The secret lies within…in the only item we both held sacred…that we both dearly loved._

"More reasons…?" Danielle murmured. "So Mother did not take her life just because she found out that Father had lied to my grandparents?"

"Apparently not." Erik's eyes widened. This was truly something that even he did not see coming. "The secret lies within…" He repeated, trying to make sense of it all.

"I do not understand. Why would she do this? How am I supposed to know what we both dearly loved, I mean I…" she almost began to panic. She just wanted answers, not more riddles.

"Easy now…think, love. What was the one item that the two of you both loved?"

"We loved many things, Erik… planting flowers…sewing…reading books…baking bread…"

"It would not be likely inside a flower garden…" He began.

"…and if it were in our sewing kit, I would have seen it by now." She added.

"Yes, that leaves books and recipes."

"Recipes…I believe Evelyne took many of Mother's old recipes. I did not have a use for many of them."

"What about books?"

"We loved many books…I told you before how she used to read to me….oh!" her eyes widened. "The poetry book, Erik! We both loved the poetry book. She knew I went hardly anywhere without it."

"But did you have it with you when you went to Versailles before she died?"

She stopped and thought hard, then exclaimed, "No! I did not. I recall looking for it, but not finding it. I had asked Mother and she said she wished to borrow it, so of course I let her. Oh, Erik that must be it, the poetry book!"

"Where is that book now?"

"In the items I had taken with me to Versailles. Lacie put it on the bookshelf down here for me when she unpacked." She pointed to the top shelf where the small, dark book sat, almost dwarfed in between Erik's larger history books.

He ran to the shelf and retrieved the book, bringing it to her and watched in anticipation as she thumbed through the pages impatiently, looking for anything….a highlighted passage, a hand scribbled note on the yellowed paper. But nothing was there. Her heart sank.

"Nothing." She sighed. "I have read this book several times since her death, if she had left me something inside, I would have seen it. I was still hoping…but maybe I was wrong after all."

"Do not be so sure, love..." He took the book from her and took time to thoroughly examine the outer cover, noticing a small separation between the backing and hard leather. "…things are not always as they appear to be…" He pulled the backing away and when he did, a small piece of paper could be seen neatly tucked inside. Danielle's green eyes flickered as she gasped in surprise. He removed it and handed it to her.

"This is it…" Her fingers shook, yet it had been invisible to Erik until the moment she held the paper.

He gently laid his hand upon hers. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I have to. The secret my mother wanted me to know is in this paper and it will always be here, whether I have the courage to read it or not, it is not going away. I must face this." She told him firmly.

Erik gave her a nod as she took a deep breath and opened the paper.

She no more than read what Erik surmised to be the first line when he saw her drop the paper to the floor and turn pale, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God…"

"Danielle?" he asked, bending over to pick up the paper. Her eyes were suddenly a million miles away. He took it upon himself to look at the paper himself and read the first line of Geneviève Durand's words silently to himself….

_Jean-Pierre Durand is not your father…_

The words practically echoed in the large, open aired room. The man she had loved all her life, the man she had slaved for to keep up the business, the man she cooked for, cleaned for…the man who had cheated her out of money, lied to her, berated her and beat her...

"He is not my father? I…"

"Oh, love…" he said, touching her cheek to turn her gaze back to him. "Surely she explains further, can you read more?"

She sat back into the chair, her head resting against the back, "Could you read it for me?"

"Anything you wish."

She gave him a simple, unpretentious smile and clearing his throat, he began…

_Yes, Jean-Pierre Durand is not your father, my beloved. Yet, before you judge me too harshly, allow me to tell you about your real father and the circumstances which prevented us from being together. It is rather simple, dearest, no dramatics, none of our favorite happily ever after's I used to read to you in your storybooks._

_I met the name that would be your father the summer before you were born, here in Paris as I accompanied my parents on a season long visit. Jean-Pierre and I had been having problems in our own relationship, his jealousy was strongly evident even then, and I needed to get away, I needed time to think, to relax. _

_We were introduced at a party at the home of Monsieur Cavanaugh, a close friend and business associate of my father's. His name was Nicolas Daque…._

Erik stopped reading out loud, but re-read the previous sentence twice silently before it sunk in.

_Monsieur Nicolas Daque…incredible…_

"Erik? What is wrong? Do you know this man?" Danielle asked anxiously.

"Yes, my love. He is on the board of the opera house, he stood up for me on more than one occasion."

"My…" she shook her head. "I have heard of him, he was at Madame Dupré's party, yet we never were formally introduced, but…oh, Erik…"

He held onto her hand sympathetically, "Should I continue?"

"Yes, please."

He nodded and continued…

_He was a strikingly handsome man with the thickest head of dark red hair I had ever seen. He had a kindness, compassion and zeal for life that was intriguing and our relationship began rather innocently enough. Not that I did not wish for it to be otherwise, but complications arose. You see, my dear, he was married…_

Erik paused and looked at Danielle, who was simply shaking her head. "Mother…"

…_and anything other than the friendship we developed over the course of the first two weeks was rather impossible. Yet, it happened. We fell in love. I could see it in his eyes the moment it happened and I am sure he could see it in mine. We expressed that love and I gave him my virginity. I did wish for the fairy tale as you know how I always wish for that, but knew it would never come true. I believe deep inside he was torn, he loved me but he also cared for his wife and the young son they had at the time. His marriage was not one filled with love, but he still spoke of her being a fine woman and he was such a man of moral character and obligation, Danielle, I knew he would never leave her to be with me. By the end of the two months we had stayed in Paris, I knew I was with child. I never saw a doctor, but a woman knows these things. I, by no means told Nicolas. We simply said our goodbyes, cried as our lips parted for the last time and we never saw one another again._

Erik looked at Danielle as tears fell down her cheeks. She remained silent.

_I returned to Jean-Pierre, knowing he would be the man I married, whether I learned to love him or not and he would be the one to raise the child I already carried…you, my darling baby girl. I chose to give myself to Jean-Pierre the first night of our arrival home, knowing when the pregnancy would be discovered, I could convince him you were his and you were simply premature. _

_And yes, to this very day, Nicolas Daque, the man I have never stopped loving, even after all these years, does not know I gave birth to his child._

_Danielle, I love you more than anything. I know how much you love me and Jean-Pierre. But his jealousy, lies and isolation have smothered me. I can no longer breathe. Please try and understand the reason I am doing this. I have told Jean-Pierre everything in his own letter and now I have told you. I know that he loves you and he will take very good care of you. _

_And so, with a light heart and a lifetime full of memories, good and bad, I bid goodbye to you, my beautiful and cherished Danielle. Live life to the fullest, do not take anything for granted, and by all means…I beg you…do not deny yourself true love._

_Love from your Mother,_

_Geneviève_

Erik folded up the paper and handed it to Danielle, watching as she replaced the paper inside the book. She closed it and pressed it to her heart and he waited patiently for a few moments to allow her time to absorb everything.

"So that is it. She ended her life because she could not handle my fa…uh, Jean-Pierre's lies, nor could she live with her own."

"It simply sounds like that your Mother was a very confused, unhappy woman. All she was sure of was she loved you."

"Yes. And it is because of that, that I know I can grow to forgive her. I must. How can I possibly blame her for falling in love and giving herself to a man she had known for two weeks…after all…I did the very same thing." She looked up into Erik's eyes. "She must have seen in Nicolas Daque what I see in you."

Erik rose from the ottoman and took Danielle into his arms, turning around and settling back into the chair, with her on his lap. He felt her rest her head on his shoulder.

"It makes sense now though, if you think about it…about Jean-Pierre." She continued softly as Erik ran his fingers softly up and down her arm, "Mother told him the truth, so in a sense, he had lost her and grew to resent me because I was not his child. I am sure he found out about Monsieur Daque. I can almost imagine how threatened he felt when found I was the daughter of such an affluent man…that drove the hatred for me…"

"And he probably kept you away from Richard not because he disapproved of him, but because he knew the Dupré's were in the same social circle as Monsieur Daque, and he feared you would run into him, perhaps talk and he could put two and two together." Erik added.

"Yes, that is very possible…"

"What will you do about him now?"

"I do not know…but I do know that I am not going to think of him until after our wedding. Too much stress right now. Once we are back from Boscherville, I can sit down and perhaps gain more answers from him."

"A sensible decision. And Monsieur Daque? I know where to find him. Perhaps you should…"

"I am not going to contact Monsieur Daque. Ever."

"You're not?"

"Why should I? What about his wife, his children? He could quite possibly a grandfather now. Why interrupt his life and cause turmoil for my sake? No. I know the truth and it is enough for me. All I wish to do now is move on to the future, my future. No more living in isolation and fear, no more needle pricks on my fingers, no more late night sweating in a hot backroom sewing gaudy gowns for pompous, unappreciative women, no more…"

Erik held her even tighter, if that was possible, "You, Danielle Durand, are the bravest woman I have ever known…"

"No, love. I am no longer a Durand, I never was." She held up her hand to show him the wedding ring on her finger, "Papers or no papers, priest or no priest, I am Danielle Renault…now and forever."

And to Erik, it was the best words he could have ever heard.

* * *

**A/N: This is basically the last official chapter, the next posting will be the epilogue to the story and its about six pages. Thanks again, the reviews are wonderful and have kept me going! The epilogue will be posted tomorrow I think. And yes, do not get too disheartened...I never said no to a sequel...;)**


	28. Epilogue

Under The Veil of Honorable Marriage

* * *

Epilogue:

_Small article in the Époque:_

_It is with the most apologetic nature that I write in clearing the name of Madame Danielle Renault, the wife of the Opera's principal investor, Erik Renault. The accusations that came from me the night of the Opera's Grand Opening were unfounded and uncalled for, causing her much pain and humiliation, on what was to be a night of celebration, not personal vendetta. She did not deserve to be defamed publicly in this manner and I hope that this aids in clearing her good name. Madame Danielle Renault is a fine lady of good upstanding character and I extend my deepest apologies to her._

_Monsieur Richard Dupré_

* * *

The Night of the Inauguration and Opening of Le Prophète

Erik and Danielle Renault could not help but laugh as they walked out of the opera house arm in arm as an eager throng of well-wishers surrounded them, demanding to shake the hand of the man who had made the night possible. Even the other investors, including Firmin and Andre, had to admit that it had all gone well.

A month had gone by rather quickly. A month since Danielle had put the past behind her and looked forward to her future as Madame Renault. Their wedding in Boscherville, two weeks after her return from Versailles, went off without fanfare, without fuss, without so much as a two line entry in the Époque. No one cared. Erik had decided to hire extra carriages and allow his servants, Jules and his family, Evelyne and her family and the Leroy's to all attend the nuptials. He knew it was what Danielle would want, and she could not have been happier.

Things, however, changed rapidly….

Upon returning to Paris a couple of days after they married, Danielle and Erik heard some disturbing news from Evelyne. She had gone to the shop to find a few of her last belongings, when she discovered the door unlocked, but the closed sign out. When she pushed on the door, she had found it strangely difficult to open. It took her several tries, but when she finally broke through, she'd found that the entire shop and apartment was trashed beyond recognition.

Jean-Pierre was nowhere to be found.

When Erik, Danielle and Jules arrived at the shop, Jules assured Erik that his men did not do the damage they were seeing now. Broken mannequins, ripped gowns and broken furniture lay all over the shop. The apartment upstairs faired no better. The windows were shattered, yet the thick drapery disguised them from the outside. It appeared that no one had been inside the shop or apartment in quite some time, although from the outside, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

A week later, the body of Jean-Pierre Durand was discovered in the cellar of the shop's building, buried under a old pile of construction supplies. It was determined he had been dead around ten days. Danielle, who had chosen to keep away from Jean-Pierre, but was still listed as his only next of kin, quietly buried him, away from her Mother. He had tried to fully possess Geneviève in life, she'd be damned if she would allow him to possess her in death.

No one was charged with vandalizing the shop and the manner of Jean-Pierre's death remains a mystery.

But Danielle was determined not to let the shop suffer the same fate. With papers in hand and enough money to restore it, she officially turned over Durand's Dress Makers to Evelyne. With Nathalie by her side, Evelyne is expected to reopen the shop within the next month.

"Well…" Monsieur Firmin shook Erik's hand firmly, "…despite the extra couple of weeks delay to allow the Vicomtess to improve her voice, I would say that this night has gone off without a hitch, do you not agree?"

"Yes, a grand night, indeed." Erik nodded, holding tight around Danielle's waist. He hated public spectacles and simply wanted to go home and celebrate in private with his wife.

The queue will be around the block tomorrow, just you see." He said, patting his shoulder before moving on to chat with Monsieur Fournier.

Erik just shook his head as Danielle laughed and said, "An easily excitable man he is."

"Yes, that he is, believe me." He spotted Jacques on top of the carriage and began to pull Danielle towards it through the crowd by her arm. "Let us get out before anyone else finds us."

"I agree." She replied.

"Monsieur Renault…" a man touched his shoulder as he passed. Both of them turned around and came face to face with Monsieur Nicolas Daque. Danielle inwardly cringed and could feel Erik's hand move from her arm to her hand, gripping tightly.

"Monsieur Daque."

"A fine night, would you both not agree?"

Both nodded politely then Erik said, "I do not believe you have formally met my wife."

"No, I did not get the pleasure of making her acquaintance at Madame Dupré's party, a pleasure, Madame." Daque bowed slightly as he took her hand and kissed it.

She immediately noticed that they both had the same eyes. At least she knew now where she inherited them. "Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Daque."

"I hope you and your wife enjoyed the evening as well." Erik said.

"Just me, I am afraid. I have been a widower now for five years, but my eldest son and daughter in law accompanied me here tonight, they enjoyed the opera." He replied.

"I am pleased to hear that."

"And I am pleased to hear of your wedding, Madame." Daque said to Danielle. "The article in the Époque vindicating you was well written, albeit a bit short in length for my taste. We were not sure if Monsieur Dupré would follow through with that. I was told he has left Paris?"

"Yes, he returned to his home after the board's decision to remove him…" Erik answered for her with no emotion. He had to fight hard for them, but he obtained all of Richard's measly shares. It was the best revenge he could do short of physical violence, although that has never left his mind. He almost hoped that Dupré would return to Paris, for Erik promised himself that if he did, nothing would hold him back.

Daque nodded, then turned back to Danielle, "I understand you are a Leroy…any relation to Monsieur Armand Leroy?" he asked, making polite conversation of course, but it made Danielle stiffen. She looked at Erik and saw him nod. She inhaled and decided to let whatever happened happen.

"I was of the understanding you knew that. Erik says you were at the board meeting last month…"

"I was, but was out of the room when the issue of your family was discussed, I only found out later from Monsieur Fournier that you were a Leroy."

"Oh, I see. Well, yes, Armand Leroy is my grandfather."

She was not surprised when Daque's eyes widened. "Then you must be Geneviève's daughter."

With a soft smile, she nodded, "Yes."

"Well…this is indeed an honor. I knew your mother well many years ago. A beautiful young woman she was. Unfortunately we lost touch…is she here in Paris? I would love to pay her a call."

"No, Monsieur, unfortunately my mother passed away nine years ago."

His eyes turned dark and disheartened. "Oh, I am sorry to hear it. How, may I ask?"

"A ruptured appendix." Danielle answered and Erik smiled knowingly. She was not going to burden the man with anything more than he needed to know.

Daque kissed her hand again, "How unfortunate, you see, well, your mother and I…oh, it is of no consequence now," he dismissively waved his hand and continued, "but I see that her smile and lighthearted nature lives on in you, Madame. I hope that I have the pleasure of seeing you again sometime." He said sadly, but putting on a brave front.

She replied simply, "Thank you, Monsieur," knowing he simply needed to get away and let it sink in. It was so obvious that he still loved her mother and it seemed, for a brief moment, the idea that they might see one another again made his heart lighter.

Truly a shame that her mother's fairy taledidn't come true.

With a nod to Erik, Monsieur Daque turned and walked away, quickly disappearing into the busy crowd. Only then did Danielle relax.

"You are one classy lady, my love…" Erik whispered in her ear.

She looked up at him sadly, "But it hurt. You have no idea close I came to telling him. Did you see his eyes? He had hoped that Mother was still alive."

"Yes, I know."

"Can we leave now?" she gathered herself and smiled.

He made no reply, simply started to pull her through the crowd again. They made it only a few feet from the carriage when they heard another voice call Erik's name.

It was Christine deChagny.

Danielle groaned. She had not seen the Vicomtess since the night she kissed Erik, and in her opinion, it was far too soon.

"Forget her, Jacques is waiting." Erik said sharply.

"Erik!" she called again, breathlessly catching up to them just as they reached the carriage.

"Vicomtess, we were just leaving, if you will excuse…" Erik began.

"I apologize, I just wanted to speak with you a moment…to say that Raoul and I will be leaving Paris tomorrow to return to our home."

"I see." He replied with a rather impatient tone, stepping one foot into the carriage. "Have a safe journey."

"Wait…uh…I just…I wanted to know…" she looked at Danielle as if she wanted her to excuse herself.

But Danielle was not going to move, not one inch.

"Yes, Christine?" he asked.

Her eyes glanced back at Erik,bright and hopeful, "Was I ...was I good tonight?"

Erik stopped cold, hardly believing what he heard. She was still such a child, begging for just an ounce of praise and attention. "You do not need my approval…"

"I do. Everyone is asking if I will sing again. I don't know if I will, not until I know my voice is strong enough…I will always need your opinion, please tell me…"

He had hardly noticed her performance that night, his eyes, as well as his hands…his lips, were all on Danielle. The majority of the opera they were not even in their box.

"Yes, Christine, you did well. Monsieur René is a fine instructor; you should keep him if you decide to continue singing." He lied and he could see Danielle turn her head to hide the smirk.

Despite that, Christine seemed appeased. "Thank you, Erik."

He got into the carriage and held to Danielle to help her in, but Christine stopped her.

"Can I speak with you?" she asked her.

Danielle threw a glance to Erik and he let go of her hand. The two women stepped back from the carriage and away from him.

"What is it, Vicomtess, I really have no time for…" she began.

"I found out that you and Erik were not actually married when the two of you went to Madame Dupré's party." Christine interrupted bluntly.

"But we are now." Danielle shrugged. What possible matter could it make after more than a month?

"Yes, I know. But he was not married when he kissed me, so you see, we did nothing wrong."

"I might not have been married to Erik then, but _you_ were married. Did you forget that so quickly?"

"No, of course not, it is different, I…"

"What is your point, Vicomtess?"

"My point is…Erik and I kissed, and perhaps more might have happened, in time…he loves me, I know it, we have something special, more special than anything Raoul and I have even now. He is my angel of music, he gave me my voice...

She smirked, "You _had_ something, but not anymore. And yes, you had the nerve to kiss him and truly for that, I should leave my handprint across your face, but in reality, _Christine_, whose name did he call? Mine. Not yours. So please, do not try to fool yourself into believing Erik is still the same man you knew. He is not. You see…we both needed to break away from unhealthy people who only wished to keep us isolated and dependant…me from Jean-Pierre Durand, and Erik…from you. Now, if you will excuse me, my husband is waiting…"

Then she turned back towards the carriage as Christine followed and told her firmly, "I will always love him… that will never change!"

Danielle stopped, then turnedand touched Christine's arm with sincere sympathy, replying, "How sad for you."

And with that, she got into the carriage next to her husband and felt warm and safe as he wrapped his arms around her. Yes, some fairy tales may not always come true, but hers did. And she knew that would have made her mother very happy.

End.

**A/N: Well, it appears I have come to the end of the story. I just wanted to be sure to thank EVERYONE who took the time to review, either on here or via email or PM to give me encouragement. Special thanks goes to Ani for drawing me the beautiful sketch of Erik and Danielle, which I will be using on my website. To April Rane for spamming me so eloquently, and to Mystic Lady Fae for giving me some very helpful advice and information.**

**I will be re-editing the story in one whole block to put on my website. You know how it goes when you write, things change as you move along, so in re-reading the earlier parts, I realized I made some minor goofs. I just want to be sure everything is accurate.**

**I will be doing another modern Erik story soon, plus working on a sequel to this one, so please keep an eye on my profile for updates.**

**And again, THANK YOU to everyone!**

**Melissa**


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